


Glow

by SilverShadow1711



Category: Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: Depression, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Heavy Angst, Miscarriage, Postpartum Depression, Pregnancy, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:35:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 29,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26055064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverShadow1711/pseuds/SilverShadow1711
Summary: After decades, the war between Nohr and Hoshido has ended, and life has begun anew, especially for Gunther and his new wife. But with life comes death, and with death comes grief. The pain of grief runs deep, and deep waters do not stand still...
Relationships: Gunter/My Unit | Kamui | Corrin
Comments: 1
Kudos: 6





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Not exactly a sequel, but rather the events that unfold after The Rising Dark. I suppose you don't need to read that to understand the main gist of this story; all you really need to know is this is takes place on the path of Conquest, and an OC takes the place of Corrin (I know there are people who can't stand OCs).

000000000000

_ “Before I even realized it, I've grown up and matured _

_ Beautiful lies grace my tongue, concealing old regrets _

_ By now, I've had my share of pain and suffering, to be sure _

_ But even so, that doesn't mean it stopped yet....” _

000000000000

Nerr paused for the third time as she made her way to the throne room, leaning against one of the many pillars that lined the halls of Castle Krakenburg and inhaling deeply several times. She wasn't out of breath, she simply... felt strange. She had been feeling odd since leaving Macarath four days ago. Shifting the papers she held under her right arm to her left, she rested her hand over her belly, frowning slightly. She had long since become accustomed to the swelling of her once flat stomach. Gunther had told her pregnancy brought with it all manner of strange aches and maladies. She trusted him. It was nothing. 

Sighing, the princess continued on her way. Xander had requested her presence at this morning's levee, and she was ever a dutiful sister, although this probably had more to do with the attack that had left three Hoshidans seriously injured than familial support. Pushing the heavy double doors open with her shoulder (she couldn't risk straining too hard), Nerr nearly fell in as they opened with far less force than she had anticipated. She did not fall, however, quickly braced by arms that led to familiar brown eyes and blonde hair. 

“Were you just waiting by the door for me, Leo?” 

“Yes.” He answered plainly, setting his sister upright. Despite being two years younger, the second (now first) prince of Nohr had overtaken Nerr by a solid four inches in the year since the war ended. Camilla had beamed that he was having a growth spurt, but Nerr felt the sudden influx of fresh produce made readily available from Hoshido played no small role. Even Elise had grown larger, though she still remained tiny and adorable compared to the rest of her family. At this rate, Nerr was certain  _ she _ was going to end up being the shortest in a few years- it seemed height was not something her birth family had to spare. Even Ryouma had been dwarfed by Xander... A pair of fingers snapping an inch from her nose brought her back from her wandering thoughts. Leo frowned, his exasperated expression ever the same despite his maturing face.

“Can you go five minutes without your mind drifting to gods' know what?”

“I suppose not...” The prince frowned at her subdued response.

“And here I was expecting an insult. I know you're not the quickest wit, Nerr, but I thought you could do better than  _ that _ .” Inhaling and sighing again, the princess began walking towards the throne, her brother quickly matching her pace.

“I don't feel up to any verbal sparring today, Leo.” At once, the younger boy's expression shifted to concern and he overtook her, standing in her path to still her.

“Are you feeling alright, sister? You're not unwell, are you? No pain, shortness of breath...?” Nerr smiled. Despite always having been rather aloof towards her, Leo made it very clear he was concerned about her wellbeing, especially while she was with child.

“I'm fine, Leo. Just a bit tired.” It was more than simple tiredness, but she was sure that she would feel better if she just got a bit of rest, which would be much easier in her own bed as opposed to a cramped carriage. The younger boy frowned deeply.

“I don't know what Xander's thinking, summoning you to a levee while you're pregnant. Doesn't he know this is your no-good husband's duty?” Had those words come from anyone else, they would have sparked a fury inside her, but she knew Leo well enough to appreciate his sense of humor.

“Gunther  _ always _ attends the levee. He won't admit it, but he's exhausted. Dealing with the nobility taxes him--”

“Not as harshly as he taxes them.”

“Careful, baby brother; you keep cracking jokes like that and we'll start to think you've been replaced with someone amusing.”

_ “There's _ your wit, or lack thereof,” Leo's smile was brief, replaced with a disapproving scowl once more. “Regardless, he should still be taking as many burdens off you as possible. You shouldn't have even gone to Macarath. You're  _ making _ a person, Nerr; I sincerely doubt Gunther is as exhausted as you.” She truly appreciated his concern, and let it be known by leaning over and pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“You are surprisingly understanding about all this, Leo. You'll make a good husband one day.” The color rising in his cheeks did not go unnoticed, but she ignored it. “Unfortunately, I  _ had _ to go to Macarath. It was a diplomatic visit. Easing tensions and diffusing situations before they become riots is my duty.” He knew he could not argue with the truth, and didn't even bother trying. Though Nerr would not admit it, the truth was, she cared more about feeling useful again than keeping the peace between Nohr and Hoshido. She wanted to feel like she could do something  _ right _ again after so many failures. She rested her hand on his elbow, trying to sound as earnest as she could. 

“I'm fine, Leo. Everything is fine.” He looked as though he might try to argue  _ that _ point, but the sound of hinges creaking behind them drew both royals' attention. The door leading to the kings' chambers had opened, and Xander stepped into the throne room. As was expected, Nerr and Leo curtseyed and bowed, respectively, to their liege. The elder sibling smiled, his furrowed brow relaxing.

“At ease, brother, sister. There's no need to stand on ceremony when it's only us.” 

“Best to not get in the habit of shirking our formalities. Can you imagine the scandal if we were caught not showing our king the respect he's due?” Nerr laughed humorlessly. 

“The capital will be buzzing about how we're plotting a coup before the day is over.” Contrary to his siblings' amusement, Xander frowned, a deep furrow forming between his brows. 

“One would think that the litany of rumors that abound within the castle walls would be enough. Or have the nobles already gotten bored whispering about my insatiable lust and the child sex slaves I keep in the dungeons?” 

Nerr quickly frowned as well. That was one of the more damning pieces of gossip making its way through the grapevine. Xander's first year on the throne had inspired more criticism than she would have liked. Not due to his strict measures and unpopular reforms so much as his bachelorhood, although there were still plenty of baleful grumblings about the former. Normally, the king married before he was crowned, or at the very least, had a betrothal waiting in the wings. Xander stated time and again that ensuring Nohr's stability was more important than taking a wife, but everyone from the nobility to the maids insisted behind their hands that it was simply because he, like his father before him, was too fond of sampling the milk to buy a cow. 

Nerr had taken it upon herself to try and find a suitable wife for her brother, someone from a good family (to keep the hordes of nobles from rioting), kind and intelligent who knew her place and wouldn't try to use her position for anyone's gain but Nohr's, but Xander proved to be surprisingly picky, dismissing her candidates for the pettiest of reasons. Back in her room, she had several sheaves of paper, documents from old Nohrian families who believed their daughters were worthy of becoming queens. Just thinking about it made Nerr feel nauseous. She pressed her fingers to her lips, waiting for the queasiness to pass. The king looked at her, concern flitting over his face.

“Nerr? What's wrong?” 

“Nothing, brother. I'm just feeling a bit sick to my stomach.” Rather than alleviate his concern, Xander's brows furrowed deeper. 

“Isn't it a bit late for that? I thought you'd be over your morning sickness by now.” She shook her head, instantly regretting it as it seemed to make the world spin around her. Leo placing a hand on the small of her back was all that kept her from stumbling. 

“Oh... there  _ is _ no getting over morning sickness, Xander. It's just a part of my life now...” The eldest royal reached out, resting his hand on her shoulder and gently stroking her through the fabric of her dress. Nerr let her eyes close for a moment, his familiar method of comforting her easing a bit of her malaise. 

“It pains me to force you to be here at my side when you should be resting, little princess. I assure you, I will attempt to get through today's levee as quickly as possible.” She appreciated his sentiments, but knew full well that there was no getting through a levee quickly, which was soon made clear as the throne room filled with dignitaries and officials. Xander took his place atop his throne, looking very regal in Nerrs' eyes as she stood beside the steps leading up to it, Leo on the opposite side. The whole ordeal was the same as it had always been the other times she had been present, the ducal ministers coming forward one at a time with their predictable, yet worrying nonetheless, news and requests. 

Requests for soldiers in Dia as an unexpected string of pirate raids had left their border guards stretched to breaking. A surprise freeze in Anomovic had destroyed the majority of the flowers from which the fragrance wholeseller drew its wealth, and as such, they would not be able to pay their taxes on time. While she knew this was the brunt of a royals' duty, no amount of studies could have prepared Nerr for the fatigue that came from simply listening to other peoples' problems. She shifted, grateful no one could see her bare feet beneath the hem of her gown, and placed her hand over her stomach. Dull, throbbing cramps had joined her worsening nausea, making the task of simply standing there and looking regal a hundredfold more taxing than it should have been. Leo sent her glances with increased frequency, but the princess tried to ignore him, tried to ignore everything but the words being spoken by the duke of Nestra, where the attack had taken place. 

There was no shortage of such stories, people being attacked on both sides of the continent, even resulting in one or two deaths, but what made it so distressing this time was  _ where _ it happened. Nestra had always been welcoming to Hoshidans, the Nohrian equivalent of Izumo. The victims, a wealthy merchant and his wife and child, had been viciously set upon by what they referred to as “thugs”, and had taken their righteous fury straight to Empress Hinoka. There was talk that she was considering issuing sanctions against the entertainment capital, even banning Hoshidans from visiting Cyrkensia. Such a ban would spell economic ruin for a city that thrived on the wealth brought in from the east, but try as she might to focus her attention on the dire situation, Nerr could think of little but her increasing pain. The cramps had become sharp, moving to her back and reaching an intensity that made it hard to breathe. A particularly sharp jolt left her doubled over, the papers she held fluttering to the floor as she clutched her stomach. The Nestrian duke stopped speaking, but whispers rose up from the rest of the dignitaries like a swarm of bees. 

“Nerr? What is it?” Xander's voice sounded like it came from far away, and even though she could see Leo's shoes quickly approaching her, she could barely hear him over the throbbing in her skull. 

“Sister, what's wrong?” Biting her lip to keep from crying out, Nerr shook her head. Nothing was wrong. 

Nothing was wrong. 

“I-- I think I need to use the restroom...” She whispered, even as she felt something hot and wet run down her leg. The nobles gasped, recoiling with looks of horror and disgust on their faces, but she was in too much pain to be embarrassed. 

“Nerr! You're bleeding!” 

“What? No...” The princess took a step forward, desperate to leave the massive room that now seemed much too small, pitching forward as the world tilted on its axis. She did not hit the floor, falling into a pair of large strong arms instead. For a moment, her dizzy mind thought it was Gunther who held her, but a glance upward revealed blurry blonde curls. 

“Leo,” Xander's voice was far too loud now. “Send one of the servants to go fetch the midwife and have her come to my quarters.” 

“Right.” The younger prince nodded, and when Nerr blinked, he was gone. The arms that held her up moved behind her shoulders and under her knees, and she felt her feet leave the ground. 

“N-no... don't... the levee--” 

“--Can wait. You are very unwell, Nerr.” She shook her head, struggling weakly against him even as he turned, walking towards the doors at the back of the room that lead to his chambers. She could see the papers she'd dropped in her periphery, blotches of bright red stark against the cream pages. Her breathing quickened as she renewed her struggles. 

“No… no, I'm fine! I'm fine, there's nothing wrong!” There  _ couldn't _ be anything wrong, not this time... Nerr was too caught up in her thoughts to notice her surroundings had changed, the barren, cavernous space of the throne room now more occupied and comfortable. Xander carried her over to the massive bed, laying her down atop the deep maroon comforters. There was a similarly colored stain on the sleeve that had been under her knees as he carried her, but she barely noticed it. “No.... no no no no no...” 

“Shhh...” The blonde man sat beside her, brushing the hair back from her face and gently stroking her forehead. It was much less soothing this time. “Everything will be alright, little princess. The midwife is coming--” 

_ “Noooo...!!” _ She moaned, tears stinging her eyes. “It's too early! Please, gods, no!” Xander cringed at the sound of her cries, but continued patting and stroking her head, trying to calm her. Several long minutes passed, her pain growing worse and worse, until the door opened once more. A hefty woman walked in, followed by two maids carrying sheets and a steaming bowl. Leo brought up the rear, his face flushed and hair in disarray, as though he had been running. 

“I've brought her, brother.” He gasped, stepping into the room. “How is--” He was cut off by a loud keen of anguish as Nerr writhed. It felt as though her insides were tearing apart as blood and other fluids continued soaking into her skirts. The midwife approached her, paying no mind to the king as she lifted the long dress up to her patient's hips and pressed down lightly on her stomach, feeling for something in different places. Shaking her head, she made a “tsk”ing sound, calling over one of the maids. 

“You there. Help me unlace her ladyship's dress. You and the prince had best leave the room, Your Majesty.” Xander mumbled something unintelligible as he nodded, heading towards the door where Leo still stood. Nerr reached out for him as he moved further away. 

“No! Xander, don't leave me!” She cried out, fear and pain making the room blur. A rough hand patted her arm, not unkindly. 

“You don't want men in here while you do this, princess. Stressful enough without them gawking.” Nerr was too upset to argue. She didn't care about gawking- she simply didn't want to be left alone with the strange hands unlacing her bodice and pulling the dark brocade down, until all she was left in was a thin chemise soaked with sweat and blood. The midwife reached between her legs, and she shuddered. “How far along are you, milady?”

“Four months....” She whispered, unable to raise her voice any higher. It had seemed like such a long time up until this very moment...

000

Nerr wasn't sure if hours or only minutes had passed as she lay in Xander's bed, caught in a state of flux between sleep and wakefulness. The midwife had long since left (or at least, it felt that way), and the maids had changed the sheets and blankets and brought her a clean shift to wear. She had watched in a state of numb shock as they took the bloody linens away to be washed. It seemed a miracle she had any blood left within her. The door opened, but she didn't notice it until the person had stepped inside and closed it back. For a moment, her gut clenched painfully, but upon noticing it was just Leo, she relaxed a bit. The young prince approached her slowly, as one might approach a dog they weren't sure of. 

“Nerr? How are you, sister?” His voice was quiet, the kind of hushed whisper used when speaking at a funeral. It was appropriate. Nerr remained silent, her attention focused on the folds of the comforter. Leo stopped near the foot of the bed, a tome tucked under one arm, the other held behind his back as he usually kept both of them. Gunther often stood like that- she always assumed it was a habit left over from his days as a soldier, but he told her it was because he never knew what to do with his hands. She wondered if Leo knew what to do with his hands... She wondered where Gunther was. Was he still in Windmire? 

“I'm sorry, Nerr. I know my platitudes mean nothing, but it's all I can think to say...” Maybe he was at one of the stalls in the bazaar. He had taken up his old habit of coming back from the city with little trinkets, books and toys. “Nerr... I want to talk to you about...  _ this. _ I know this is hardly the right time, but really, there isn't  _ ever _ a right time.” Gifts for his no-more child. They could join the pile. 

“--ried so...” 

“What?” Leo blinked, taken aback by the sibilant whisper. He hadn't expected his sister to speak, so when she did, and so quietly, he didn't hear a word she said. Nerr was still staring at the blankets, a vacant stare that seemed to go on and on. 

“I tried so hard... I did everything right... I thought... this time...” The younger boy sighed deeply, pulling a chair away from the oak writing desk and placing it at her bedside, so he could face her as he sat. 

“This is the fourth time, sister--” 

“Sixth.” 

“...excuse me?” She gripped the comforter tightly, her knuckles popping, her nails itching as they grew thicker and sharper. 

“Six. Times. Twice... twice, I didn't even realize I was with child until I saw the blood...” She had kept those instances to herself, letting her husband and her siblings believe she hadn't gotten pregnant yet. If they knew... the way Leo looked at her now wouldn't compare with the shame and disgust if they knew the extent of her failure. 

“Does... does Gunther know--” 

“No!” She snapped, her entire body going rigid. “And you can't ever, ever,  _ ever _ tell him. He barely tolerates me now; he'll leave me if he finds out.” 

“Nerr, that's ridiculous and you know it...” Nerr wanted to slap the look of condescending sympathy off her brother's face. That was what everyone would say. That was what Gunther would say. And they would all be lying, lying to try and make her feel less worthless. Leo combed a hand through his hair, which was less mussed than it had been earlier, but still a far cry from the high standard he held himself to. 

“I've been reading, sister. About dragons. More specifically, the Ancient Ones,” She remained silent, waiting for him to continue. “Do you know why there are no more manaketes this side of the Dark Sea?” 

“They killed themselves off during the Great War.” Everyone knew that- it was ancient history. All that remained of them were their descendants, the royal families. To her surprise, Leo shook his head. 

“Even constant battles wouldn't be enough to drive an entire species to extinction, especially one that lives for hundreds, if not thousands of years. Nohr has been at war since the time of the Ancient Ones, we're ravaged by plague and famine relentlessly, and yet we've not gone extinct.” He brought up a very good point. 

“So... why then?” Leo met her eyes directly, and Nerr felt her stomach drop even before he spoke. 

“They were barren. Our ancestors chronicled their lives with the dragons they fought for, and wrote that even though they took mates, decades, sometimes centuries would pass before they bore live offspring.” He held up the book for her to better see. Its leather cover was frayed and peeling, and many pages were askew, no longer bound to the spine. “Most never conceived, as far as the humans were aware. And those that did took ages, often with many failed attempts.” She clenched her jaw, his meaning clear but her mind deliberately slowing down. No, she didn't want to think about this. 

“Why are you telling me this, Leo?” Lowering the tome, his fingers twitched and tapped nervously on the cover. It seemed he had a hard time figuring out what to do with his hands, after all. 

“The draconic blood in your veins is much stronger than that of other royals. You're clearly a manakete. ...I can't help but think that this might not be a human problem you have, but a dragon problem.” 

“No. Your books are nonsense. I don't have a  _ problem, _ I just have to try harder--” 

“Nerr, it's not just some fairy tale that was made up. We see it even now; it's almost impossible to find a breeding pair of wyverns in--” 

“So what?!” Nerr asked, her voice louder and more manic than she had wanted it to be. “Those are  _ animals. _ I'm not an animal, Leo; I'm not some mindless mount. It's not a dragon problem, it's not a human problem, it's not a  _ problem! _ I'm just-- doing something wrong...” 

“Nerr--” 

“I don't have a problem! Nothing is wrong with me! Nothing's wrong, I just have to keep trying!” 

“...should I come back later?” Both royals turned their attention to the door, and Nerr felt her blood run cold. Gunther stood in the door frame, still wearing his traveling cloak, staring at the siblings with an inscrutable expression. Leo got to his feet at once. 

“No. Of course not. Nerr and I were simply discussing... something.” Casting one last look at his sister, the prince left the room, in such a hurry that he didn't even wait for the former knight to move aside to let him pass. He watched the younger boy for a moment, before stepping into the room, shrugging off his cloak and folding it slowly. 

“Your brother told me you were in here...” He said, his tone even, but with an unnatural cadence. Nerr ground her teeth, feeling her gums start to itch. Tamping down the urge to transform was the same as tamping down her feelings, and often went hand in hand. 

“Close the door...” She whispered, afraid to speak any louder after her one-sided shouting match with Leo. Gunther held the handle as he pushed the heavy oak shut so that it didn't even make an audible click. Everyone tiptoed around her- it felt like they were afraid of waking a monster. She wished they were; fear would be so much more palatable than disappointment. 

He took Leo's vacant seat, reaching out to grasp her hand at once. His fingers were still chilled from the wind outside. The thought of him standing in the bazaar, looking through little clothes and soft shoes made her want to cry. Nerr shut her eyes, trying to swallow the tears that worked their way up her throat. 

  
  


“What happened, dearest? Did you fall, or...?” The way he trailed off was sickening. He was trying to give her an out, an excuse, a way to say “it wasn't really my fault”. She shook her head. 

“No. I lost it. I didn't fall, I didn't run into anything or eat anything or ride in a bumpy carriage. It was there... and then it wasn't.” Her voice broke and she hated herself for it. How dare she? How  _ dare _ she be sad, how dare she think  _ her _ feelings mattered? She could feel Gunther's fingers trembling over hers, and just as quickly, he gripped her hand tighter. 

“It isn't your fault, Nerr. These things happen.”  _ It's not your fault, Nerr, it's not your fault; these things happen.. _ . He'd been telling her that ad nauseam for almost two years, ever since the first time it  _ wasn't her fault _ , and each time, that lie grew more transparent. She appreciated her beloved lying to her, she truly did. The way he masked his bitterness, his disappointment behind gentle words and smiles was kind, and that kindness made it easier for her to keep putting one foot in front of the other and endure each otherwise miserable day. 

“It  _ is _ my fault...” She seethed through tightly clenched teeth. Her muscles were so tense they quivered. A mounting pressure in her temples was making it hard to think. 

“Nerr, don't say such things,” Ever the dutiful, ideal husband, Gunther tried to distance her from her failure. He tried to push her back onto the pillows (gently, of course; everything he did since they'd wed was gentle, a far cry from the hard, strict mannerisms he'd used as her retainer), but she remained stiff and rigid, refusing to budge except to turn and face him. 

“It is my fault, Gunther. It's  _ always _ my fault. But I can do better- I know I can!” She forced herself to smile, to believe her own lies, just like she had during the war. And she'd managed to bluff her way to victory  _ then _ , so maybe it could work now, too. “I-- I was so close last time, remember? I just have to do everything I did then, but better!” 

“Nerr...” 

“We just have to try again. I just-- I just need another chance...!” She moved her hand, lacing her fingers with Gunther's and squeezing his. She could feel the bones shifting beneath his skin as he winced, pulling his hand away for just a moment before clasping hers in both of his. He looked her deep in the eye, and she could see his moving, searching her face. For what? For a hint of the woman he'd  _ thought _ he'd married, a woman who wasn't so troublesome? 

“Nerr... Dearest... I think it might be time to  _ stop _ trying.” Deep in her heart, the princess had been expecting many different statements.  _ I want this marriage annulled _ or  _ I don't love you _ ... Of all the horrible, devastating things she could have anticipated, somehow this was not one of them. She shook her head, not quite able to grasp the meaning of his words. 

“Wh-what do you mean? I know you're upset- I didn't mean  _ now _ . In a few weeks maybe--” 

“This isn't good for you, Nerr.” Gunther cut her off, the unhappiness shrouding his face making him look even older than he was. “Every time...  _ this _ happens, it takes you longer to get well again. I can't even fathom the heartache you must feel. Putting you through this time and again is cruel--” 

“No, it's not!” She could not help raising her voice, the desperation in her tone grating her ears. “I  _ want _ to do this! I promised I'd give you a family, and I  _ will! _ It's just taking a little longer than I thought it would...” The pity held in those violet eyes brought bile rushing into her mouth, and as the knight leaned over to kiss her temple, rancor burned with the nausea.

“You  _ have _ given me a family, Nerr.  _ You're _ my family, and you are all I could ever need. If you truly want children this badly, perhaps... we could adopt.” 

...what? 

“What?” 

“Wars leave many orphans. A lack of common blood in no way precludes love; you of all people would know that.” His tone grew lighter, a tentative smile carving the lines around his lips and eyes deeper. Nerr stared at him, at a point focused near his eyes. Her lips moved but no words came out, the words in her mind crashing into each other and forming a jumble too difficult to untangle. “Nerr?” The tremulous anticipation in his eyes dimming the longer the young woman remained silent. She had stopped trying to speak, instead clenching her teeth so tightly it  _ hurt _ , but unable to keep her jaw from quivering. “Darling?” The turmoil bubbling within her exploded, violently. Nerr shoved her once retainer away with such force that the chair was almost knocked over. 

“You're giving up on me!!” She shrieked in a rage, angry tears flowing from her eyes unabated. Clutching the spot where she'd struck him, Gunther looked absolutely appalled. 

“What!? No! Nothing could be further from the truth!” 

“Yes, you are! Admit it!! I'm not as good as your bitch of a first wife because  _ she _ could give you children and I can't! You didn't have to  _ try _ with her!! You didn't have to get your hopes up, only to have them dashed every time! I'm not as good as her; I'll  _ never _ be as good as her!” Her fury was quickly starting to lose steam, leaving her with nothing but guilt and shame and misery. “I'm trying, but it's not enough- it's  _ never  _ enough! It's so easy for everyone else... Why isn't it easy for  _ me!? _ Why can't I give you this!?” 

The anguish that Nerr had been holding back for hours broke free of the dam she'd tried to erect. The poise and grace and refinement a royal was meant to display at all times was forgotten as she wailed, tears oozing through her fingers as she covered her face. It was no wonder Gunther didn't want to bother with her pathetic attempts at conceiving anymore. This was much closer to the norm than a deviation from it. She'd never lashed out at him directly before, but he had far too much to deal with to have his patience worn thin by days of her loathsome self-pity. Large, strong arms wrapped around her, engulfing her in warmth. 

“I don't need you to give me anything, Nerr. I don't want anything more from you.” 

“Because you don't think I  _ can _ give it to you! Or you just don't care!” She struggled against his embrace, beating and clawing at every inch of flesh she could reach in a frantic effort to free herself. “Go away! If I'm not good enough for you anymore, then just go away!! You don't need me; you don't want my child, so leave!!” 

She was giving him his out. If he was tired of her, bored with this silly, worthless little girl who was more trouble than she was worth, he could just walk away now and that would be it. It would be her fault, just like everything else; her siblings wouldn't question it. Camilla and Xander would be overjoyed, everyone else would chalk it up to a silly child's flight of fancy. Everything would be easier if he left. ...easier for him, and that was all that mattered to Nerr. Despite her anger, her misery, she would understand. She didn't want to have to deal with her either. The arms around her shoulders did not withdraw, the chest beside her face did not pull away. If anything, they grew more claustrophobic, tightening and coming closer as Gunther shifted, sitting on the duvet beside her, drawing her in to lean against him. She could hear his heart beating, faster than its usual steady rhythm. He rubbed her arm, resting his chin atop her head. 

“I  _ do _ need you, Nerr. More than food, or water, or breath itself. And because of that, I fear for you. Every time this happens, I'm afraid. You almost died the first time. ...what will I do if there's no 'almost' the next?” She could feel his voice more than hear it, and that was probably for the best. She didn't want to hear that tight, shaky whisper. She wanted him to be angry, disgusted at the gall of her, daring to be so ungrateful when any sane man would have left her months ago. Why couldn't he just be a bastard this once so she didn't feel so overwhelmingly terrible? Nerr sobbed, burying her face into the rough wool of his tunic. She had sewn it herself, months ago, with every intention of making a smaller version soon after, but there had been no need. It hurt, so much more than she wanted to admit, so much more than she felt she had the right to hurt.


	2. Chapter 2

000000000000

_“Growing clearer with passing time_

_Your wounds consume me as well as mine_

_No, I can't go any further; I can't go on anymore...”_

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The night was quiet, uneventful. Even the most fervent of gossip mongers had the decency, or at least the sense, to let the rest of the day pass in silence. Gunther was grateful. He knew their tongues would start waggling again in the morning, but he could deal with things easier then. The only thing that demanded his attention now was his wife. For a long time, they remained in Xander's quarters, Nerr both too weak to move, and also unwilling to let him take her back to their room. A small part of him worried that their newly appointed king would get fed up with them encroaching on his privacy, but that was an unfounded fear. 

There was no doubt in Gunther's mind that if the Hoshidan-born princess decided to take up residence in the massive bedchamber permanently, Xander would sleep in a broom closet without a second thought. Not that she would. She could never be comfortable in such strange opulence. He tried to coax her back to their shared quarters, where she could relax and rest easier, but she responded each time by slapping his hands away and scooting further to the edge of the bed.

It was frustrating, but in a twisted way, it came as something of a relief. It was so, so difficult to deal with Nerr when she was sad. The inconsolable, desperate wailing that sounded like it was being torn from the depths of her soul terrified him, because he didn't know what to do to help. Gone were the days when he could simply hold her and rock her gently and assure her that everything would be alright. Gone were the days of childish grievances that were forgotten as quickly as they came. What could he possibly say, or even do, to make anything better now? Every time- gods, why were there so many times?- Gunther reminded her that it wasn't her fault, that such tragic things happened to many women, not just her. 

It was all he could think to say, to convince her not to turn her anger and guilt inward like she always seemed to, but the more he said those same hollow placations, the more it felt like he was just giving a well-rehearsed speech to another soldier. What difference was there between “It's not your fault” and “You did what you had to”? At least this time, he was met with something other than that silent, doleful glare that had become painfully normal. Not that this was much better, but at least rage wore Nerr out faster than sadness, and after a good hour of intermittent screaming and crying, pounding her fists against him and clutching to him desperately, she stopped lashing out.

Gunther managed to gather the younger woman into his arms (with more difficulty than he wanted to admit), apologizing profusely as she winced. Her shift was different from the one she had put on earlier that morning, and when it bunched up under her knees, he could see the faint remnants of dried blood on her calves. She looked so tired, so pale and worn as he carried her back down to their quarters in the east wing. The whole time, she remained silent, keeping her gaze pointedly on the carpet. Even once back in her bed, surrounded by the dozens of pillows she had amassed over the last year and buried under a veritable mountain of blankets, just the way she liked it these days, Nerr didn't speak. He stayed with her, biting his tongue to fight the urge to break the silence, grateful she tolerated him enough to let him lean against her and lazily stroke her arm. 

It wasn't until late, late that night that he moved. Nerr had fallen asleep, due in no small part to the heavily spiked posset Camilla had brought her a while back. Elise had also brought up plates of food for the both of them as they missed dinner, but those went untouched. It wasn't advisable for an expectant mother to drink in large doses, but... well, that wasn't a problem anymore, now was it? Gunther hadn't left the room- what if she woke up and he wasn't there?- instead just pulling a rocking chair up to the window. It was an obstructed view, with planks of wood nailed over the panes of glass. Sometimes, his wife gazed a little too intently down into the depths of the crater the castle was built into.

The chair had been a gift from Xander- he proudly told Nerr that his own mother used to sit in that very chair and read to him when he was young. All the royals had bestowed her with gifts for the child she had been expecting early last spring. Even though they all but ignored him, Gunther had been delighted, watching his new bride open boxes of toys and clothes with undiluted joy in her eyes. He didn't care if they ever accepted him; as long as they accepted his child, he would be happy. And they did, eagerly anticipating the day they would meet their first niece or nephew. 

But that day never came. It hadn't been like the first time, that fearful, secret pregnancy Nerr still kept from her family. He hadn't run around a camp of dead and dying soldiers, looking for his ill fiancée before finding her on the makeshift operating table of some Hoshidan butcher, barely clinging to life. Just like now, he had come back to the castle (it still felt wrong to call it 'home') just as he always had, only to be hurriedly ushered to one of the many apartments in Clarkenstein and told by a distraught Nerr that she had lost the baby. A few months later, the hope of creating a family started anew, and a few weeks after that, it was once again dashed. It had become an inescapable cycle.

The hope usually didn't last long- more often than not, the beginning of their unborn child would be lowered into a shallow grave in the castle garden before her stays even needed to be loosened. Twice, she hadn't even begun showing signs for the others to see. She never said anything to him either time, but Gunther noticed her avoiding her wine at dinner and the way she touched her stomach when she thought he wasn't looking. He noticed, too, the way she grew ill out of seemingly nowhere and locked herself in the toilet for hours, looking ashen and worn when she finally came out again. It was fine, he reminded himself time and again. It _was_ fine because, as he always reminded Nerr, he hadn't married her simply because he wanted children. His love was an eternal flame that could only grow brighter, regardless of what happened... or didn't happen, as the case may have been. But it hurt. No matter how much he didn't want to care, it hurt so much...

Despite his best efforts to act as though everything was fine- it _was_ fine, it **was** \- the old knight sometimes wished that he could go someplace where no one could find him- especially not Nerr- and simply cry. He desperately wanted to weep openly, to scream and curse the heavens, not just for taking his children away, but for putting his beloved through the ordeal as well. Gunther had long known the pain of losing a child; it was that pain that drove him forward all these years. It was, in a sad way, what brought Nerr into his life. A hundred, thousand years could pass, and the torment of knowing his little boy was gone would still be a raw, open wound on his heart. He knew that what he felt was amplified tenfold for his poor little ladyship. 

During the war, she had been too worried, too afraid, to want the child they'd accidentally sired, but she _did_ want these. She wanted them so badly, and the gods snatched them all away before they could even meet them. The last time had been the worst of all. Gunther _still_ didn't understand what happened. Everything had been so... _perfect._ And then it wasn't.

_Late spring in Hoshido was infinitely more palatable when one wasn't donned in full plate, grappling on a battlefield whose ground was a soup of blood, shit and piss, but it still wasn't enjoyable. At least, not to a Nohrian long accustomed to the grim north. Gunther desperately wished he could undo the stupid ascot currently choking him, but he endured, standing beside the door of the carriage. As King Xander's royal advisor, he had to endure plenty of unpleasant things. Besides... he didn't want to offend Nerr by insinuating he could barely stomach the land of her birth._

_“Fucking hell, I'm melting!” The ebony carriage rocked a bit as a face and shoulders poked through the door. The princess' normally pallid complexion was ruddy, her hairline beading with sweat. Panting, she struggled to push herself through the opening, the skirts of her long dress catching on everything. The sight of her twisting and jerking sent a jolt of fear through him, and the older man reached out, gripping her wrists to still her._

_“Calm down, my darling.”_

_“Don't you tell me to calm down, Gunther; this carriage is a fucking hot house, and if it gets one iota hotter, I'm kicking your ass!” Her frustration brought a smile to his face, if only because he knew she wasn't actually upset. Not now. There was nothing to be upset about, a fact that was exemplified by the way she smiled back at him as she gripped his proffered arm, leaning her weight on him while she climbed down the steps. Her other hand rested atop her largely swollen belly. As long as he lived, he would never get tired of that sight. Setting foot onto the dirt path carpeted with the crushed petals of the cherry trees that lined the road, Nerr inhaled deeply, looking around._

_“Loathe as I am to admit it, Hoshido has us beat in the best way when it comes to summer.”_

_“It's spring, Nerr.”_

_“The hell it is! Spring is supposed to be mild. It stopped being 'spring' when I started sweating through my kirtle.”_

_“Maybe you should invest in some lighter clothes then, milady...” Both Nohrians turned towards the sudden voice, and the princess' smile grew even wider._

_“Shura! Oh, it's wonderful to see you again!” The former pirate, who had been too close for either of them to not notice, gave a lopsided smirk as he approached._

_“The pleasure's all mine, Lady Nerr.” He bowed deeply, taking the younger womans' hand into his own and pressing a kiss against the backs of her fingers. It did not go unnoticed by Gunther the way he let his lips linger for a few seconds longer than was proper, but before Nerr herself cottoned on, the Kougan man released her, straightening. His expression grew solemn. “Truly, milady; it is an honor that you would grace my humble village with your presence.”_

_“I am honored you would extend an invitation to us,” She fell back into the role of ambassador with a practiced ease, exuding grace and charm. “After all the destruction I caused to Hoshido, it brings me no small amount of joy to know I had a hand in actually_ **_creating_ ** _something.”_

_“That you did, Lady Nerr. Modest though it may be now, Kouga only exists once more because this thief met so noble a woman... But enough banality. You didn't come all this way to stand at the gates. I've already prepared a room for you.” He offered Nerr his own arm, but before she could even consider taking it, Gunther moved to stand between them, his lips curved into a smile that didn't reach his eyes._

_“I hope you've prepared one for me as well, Shura-sama?” At once, the daimyo's face twisted, as though he had just tasted something unpleasant._

_“Yeah, I can probably spare a closet for you or somethin'.” The bitterness that laced his words went unnoticed by Nerr, who giggled slightly._

_“You sound just like Jakob, Shura.”_

_He really did, with all the seething lust and passive-aggressive envy that implied. But the princess remained blissfully unaware of such things. The white-haired man kept his hands to himself as he led them towards through the gates, the freshly painted torii still a vivid shade of red, unlike the long-faded gates that marked other Hoshidan duchies. Everything looked bright and shiny, and Shura eagerly pointed out the location of everything to Nerr, who was just as entranced. At any other time, Gunther might have felt that niggling petty jealousy to see his dear ladyship hanging onto the words of another man, but now, he was just happy that_ **_she_ ** _was happy. Perhaps it had something to do with the bright Hoshidan sun, but she was radiant, glowing from the inside, and it was just as obvious to others as it was to him. Shura had been talking about wanting to make a shrine like the one that had been destroyed when he was a child when he paused, his gaze sweeping over her._

_“Looks like you're busy making something too, eh, ladyship?” The color rose in her cheeks, but she only smiled wider._

_“That I am. In fact, I'm almost done!” She looked over her shoulder, and Gunther felt his heart flutter at the happy pride shining in her eyes. “I'm due in July, right?”_

_“Late June.” He answered, not even needing to think about it. For months, he had been counting the days, the seconds, until he would finally get to hold his son or daughter. Every week that passed with no complications left him and his beloved growing more and more excited. Shura smiled at her gently, the lines around his lips and the corners of his eyes softening._

_“I'm very happy for you, milady. It's about damn time the gods did right by you.”_

_“Thank you. I would offer to let you feel him kick, but he's been surprisingly calm for the last week or so. I think he rather likes Hoshido.”_

_“Any child of yours will always be welcome in Kouga, Lady Nerr.” The daimyo led them to his home, hardly a palace like most Hoshidan nobles lived in, but a large enough manse occupied with people from different neighboring villages, including some from Mokushuu._

_He brought out yukata for them (yes, even for Gunther, much to his surprise), rightfully stating that their attire, though light enough for Nohr, would probably end up killing them in Hoshido. The newly rebuilt Kouga was only meant to be a quick resting point on their journey to Shirasagi, but Nerr was so enchanted with the village that Gunther reluctantly agreed they could stay a day or two longer than scheduled. He didn't want to deny her anything, not even the simplest joy of helping the tenant farmers (one of whom was the girl they'd saved from marauders that first day they arrived in Hoshido) scatter dried soybeans in the field._

_At night, they lay curled against one another on a futon, just like they had their first night together, when he'd finally gathered up the courage to approach her with his feelings, and she had beaten him to the punch by confessing her love first. This time, there was no fear of being discovered, no worries of the death and destruction that lay ahead of them, only happiness, so much happiness after so much pain and sorrow and loss. Nerr slept soundly, unlike nights back in Krakenburg, which were a never-ending routine of tossing and turning and running to the toilet. He gazed down at her, grinning like a madman while he lightly traced the hard shell of her belly. Only two months ago he had first felt the baby,_ **_his_ ** _baby that_ **_he'd_ ** _put inside her, kick against his hand. He'd ridden that high for a solid week. It wouldn't be long now. June was right around the corner. They were still talking about names..._

_The next morning, they once again donned their familiar clothes as they got ready to continue their journey to the capital. Most of the villagers had come to see them off, but despite her smile as she tried to bow, there was something pinched in Nerrs' expression. It was easy to think that maybe she was still tired, or didn't want to leave yet, but even as they got back into the carriage, her expression didn't change. Indeed, as they began down the path beyond Mokushuu's boundaries, she seemed to grow more dispirited. Gunther leaned over, twining his fingers together with hers._

_“What is it, dearest? What's wrong?” He could see her grinding her teeth, eyes darting around the cramped interior of the carriage._

_“I don't know,” She whispered. “I feel... strange.” At once, his heart dropped to his feet, and he quickly moved to sit beside her. She was flushed- given the heat of the carriage, that was understandable, but beneath her crimson cheeks, the knight could see her skin had taken on an ashen tinge. “I wish we could stop for a moment. I'm... I'm dizzy...” For seemingly no reason, she got to her feet, half standing before pitching to the side. Gunther caught her, sitting her back down as he tried to suppress his own growing panic._

_“Just stay calm, Nerr. Everything will be fine.” Leaning back over, he pounded on the wall behind the coachman._

_“What??” The driver's voice was muffled, both by the barrier between them and the deafening clatter._

_“Turn around!! Go back!!”_

_“But--” The older man got up, leaning out of the open window far more than any man who didn't want to fall out of a moving carriage would._

_“Turn! Around!” The horses slowed from their trot, and as the carriage turned around, he sat back down. The moment he was beside her again, Nerr leaned heavily against his side. The sight of her biting her lip with her eyes screwed up was like a punch to the gut. He rubbed her back in a circular motion, wishing he could do more. “Just relax, dearest. Breathe deeply; we'll be back in Kouga soon and you can lie down.”_

_“It hurts...” She whimpered._

_“I know, I know, but you'll be fine, Nerr.” It was a testament to the decades spent repressing his emotions that Gunther could even manage to speak when his mind was shrieking in terror. Given the pattern of her winces, it wasn't too hard to guess that her pain was being caused by contractions, but that was impossible. It was too early for that. Everything was going perfectly this time!_

_Stress, it was probably just stress. His sister had once scared them by going into labor early, but she had laid down for a few hours and everything righted itself (a month later, he had a new niece). They had only been about half an hour from Kouga, but it felt like days were passing as they waited to return. When the red arch of the gates came into view, Gunther didn't even wait for the carriage to come to a complete halt before he jumped out. His knees regretted it at once, but there was no time for pain. The Hoshidans looked at him strangely as he ran through the small town, whispering behind their hands._

_“Ah, Gunther-sama? What are you doin' back here so soon?” The Hoshidan girl from their campaign (what was her name? Mozu something?), approached him, a hoe held over her shoulder and a confused look on her youthful face._

_“Where is Shura?”_

_“Uh... p-probably in his house? You want me to go fetch him?”_

_“Yes!” Perhaps the urgency in his voice came through, because the girl threw down her hoe at once and took off in the direction of the manor. Assuming the daimyo would come back to the gates, he headed back to the carriage. Nerr had climbed out, clutching tightly to the door with one hand, the other wrapped around her stomach. Glancing up, she began walking towards him, only managing a few slow, unsteady steps before her legs gave out under her. Despite rushing to her side, the knight couldn't reach her before she collapsed onto the hard packed dust. She looked so small, so weak as he gathered her into his arms. “Don't worry, Nerr. You'll be inside in a minute.” The princess gave no indication she heard what he said, her gaze distant._

_“What's wrong with me?”_

_“Nothing,” Gunther said, a bit too quickly even in his own mind. “Nothing is wrong, my love. I promise.” He shouldn't have been making promises he couldn't keep; it only made things worse, but it was a habit that refused to die. Besides, she_ **_could_ ** _be fine. It could turn out this was nothing but a stomach bug. Desperate to convince himself he wasn't lying, the older man got to his feet, shifting to adjust for the added weight of his wife. Pain shot through his right arm, the whole limb shaking as he forced it to deal with a strain beyond its capabilities. He could endure it for a few more minutes; he didn't have a choice, he reminded himself as Nerr winced, her whole body contracting._

_“Hey! What's goin' on, why're you back?” Shura was jogging up to meet them with Mozume right behind him, rolled up sleeves and dirt on his hands indicating he'd been interrupted from something manual. The irritated confusion in his face immediately became concern as he noticed the Nohrian girl gasping in pain. “What happened?”_

_“I don't know. She needs to lie down, and-- and maybe a midwife.”_

_“We don't have a midwife here. There's gotta be one in Mokushuu--” The brunette villager hopped on the balls of her feet to get his attention._

_“I can go, Shura-sama. I'll run there and be back in two shakes of a Kitsune's tail!”_

_“Then do that. Tell 'em there's a noblewoman here, and bring her back to the manor.”_

_Nodding, a fiercely determined look on her face, the young girl took off through the gates in the direction of Mokushuu. Gunther watched her run, wondering if it wouldn't have been faster if he had ridden there himself, tensing as a pair of rough hands brushed against his arms. He instinctively gripped the fragile body against his chest tighter, which was met with a surly glare from the daimyo._

_“Give her to me. You can barely hold her, and I'll be damned if I let you drop my liege.” The desire to argue, to get upset at the implication that he couldn't properly care for his wife, was overwhelming, but this was not the time nor place for petty pride. As he handed her over, Shura seemed to stumble a bit, but quickly regained his footing, turning on his heel and heading towards his manor without a second glance in Gunther's direction. “Don't worry, Lady Nerr, I gotcha.”_

_The former pirate returned Nerr back to the room they had stayed in during their visit, ordering one of the servants to set the futon back out. It was with a tremendous amount of care that he laid her down, his arm lingering under her neck long after it should have moved._

_“Do you need anything, milady?” He whispered, still leaning down._

_“She needs water. And quiet.” Gunther snapped, harsher than he should have. The Kougan man glared at him, but got up and left the room nonetheless. He was being spiteful and horribly undiplomatic, but he didn't care. His nerves were stretched too thin to deal with some spoony fool getting moon eyed around his ailing wife. Taking Shura's place beside the futon, he grasped Nerrs' hand, her thin fingers tightening around his immediately. It was frightening how weak her grip felt. “There's a midwife coming, dearest. Everything will be fine. Just... lay on your side for now.” The princess shook her head slowly, her long hair mussing beneath her._

_“I don't want to move,” She whispered through gritted teeth, her entire body stiff. “Something's wrong.”_

_“No, it's going to be alright--” She shook her head again, faster this time. Crimson eyes were open wide, and each time she blinked, tears dripped from their corners, falling into her hair._

_“No... no no no... it's happening again...” Her voice was so tight and strained Gunther could barely hear her, but he didn't need to as she groaned loudly. A dark spot bloomed on her dress, and beneath her, the futon grew damp, the white fabric now tinged with pink. His heart fell- he could physically feel the dip in his chest- the fear and anxiety that had consumed him earlier giving way to disappointment, loathsome in its familiarity. He squeezed Nerrs' hand._

_“It's going to be alright...” Never had the realization of how utterly worthless he was been as strong as in that room. Despite the primal urge to do_ **_something_ ** _to fix what was wrong, Gunther knew there was nothing he_ **_could_ ** _do. There was no magic spell to fix what was wrong (and if there was, he certainly couldn't cast it). Pleading to the gods hadn't worked decades before, and no matter how desperate his supplications were, nothing changed. All he could do was attempt to comfort his pitiful wife as she writhed and whimpered. Her breathing had started to grow heavier when the door finally slid open again, Shura walking in with a woman in her mid thirties following. He brought over a pitcher and a cup, pausing for a moment as he gaze was drawn to the bloody stain, before quickly looking away. He set the pitcher down, keeping his gaze averted._

_“Anything else?”_

_“No. Not now.” Nodding somewhat awkwardly, the daimyo got up and backed out of the room, leaving them with the woman. She must have been the midwife; Gunther recognized the calm, yet authoritative air about her as she approached the futon. A small part of his mind expected her to tell him to go fetch more water, but she seemed to ignore him in favor of the actual patient._

_“Hello, oujou-sama. I'm going to help you.” Nerr shook her head weakly, eyes tightly shut as she stiffened, her grip on her knight's hand tightening to the point where he sincerely believed she might break a few bones. After ten or so long seconds, her vice grip released, leaving her panting. The Hoshidan woman reached out, running her hands over the princess' swollen belly, even leaning down and pressing her ear against the dark purple linen. She frowned, straightening. “How far along are you?”_

_“Six months.” Gunther answered in her stead, given that the younger woman was breathing heavily, still reeling from what must have been another contraction. “She's going into labor. It's possible the baby might yet survive, isn't it?”_

_It was a fool's errand, holding onto hope, but stranger things had happened. Women bore their children before they were due, and while the babes were small and sickly, they sometimes survived. One of Garon's spawn had been born a month before expected, and while the boy always remained frail, he still lived (at least, until he was found with his throat slit in his bed). It wasn't impossible... He wanted so badly to believe that even as the midwife shook her head._

_“I'm afraid not. There is no movement, and no heartbeat. There's nothing to do now but deliver it and--”_

_“No!!” Nerr startled them by sitting up abruptly. The pain in her voice was palpable as tears coursed down her cheeks. “I don't want to! I don't want to do this!”_

_“I'm afraid you must, oujou-sama,” With her pitiful protests achieving nothing, the Nohrian girl collapsed back onto the thin pillow, covering her face with her arms and weeping loudly, her sobs occasionally interspersed with cries of “I don't want to!”. “Perhaps you would feel more comfortable if your father were to wait outside?” The older woman asked, her tone kindly. Gunther glared at her._

_“I am her husband. And I'm not going anywhere.” Even though he knew it was more a matter of decency than a personal affront- men were rarely expected to be present during a birth unless it was as a witness for royalty- the mere suggestion of leaving Nerrs' side infuriated him. There was already so little he could do, and now this whelp who probably knew less about birthing than him wanted to take away what little purpose he had? His (rather selfish) indignation was cut short by the sound of another strained keen and the sight of his wife digging her nails into her arms to try and ride out the pain of another contraction. He took her hands, twinging his fingers with her and paying no mind to the sharp nails leaving bright red gouges on the backs of his hands. Whatever pain he felt was but a pinprick compared to what she was enduring._

_Hours dragged on agonizingly slow. The Hoshidan woman urged Nerr to get up and walk around, as that might help speed up the process, also encouraging her to eat so she would have energy when the labor began. Despite Gunther agreeing with both of those suggestions (though he'd never heard of anyone eating so close to a delivery), the princess remained prone, more often than not curled into as tight a ball as she could manage. Just days ago, she had been eagerly anticipating giving birth. Now, it seemed she wanted nothing to do with the whole ordeal. It felt like a cruel joke. Every time they'd lost a child before, it just... happened. Over in minutes. There was nothing to prepare for, nothing to wait for._ **_This_ ** _, this_ **_waiting_ ** _.... He remembered the same thing happening when his sisters went into labor, when Michaela did... The anticipation was supposed to be a_ **_good_ ** _thing, an exciting time full of nervous energy as he waited to meet his niece or nephew... or son. Silently, he cursed the gods for making him go through those motions, but this time all for naught._

_As the contraction grew closer together, the pain must have intensified beyond what Nerr was capable of tolerating. Her nails grew darker and thicker as she squeezed Gunther's hand, the long talons puncturing his flesh, which bled profusely. The midwife exclaimed in horror, but he calmly waited for the wave of pain his wife was riding to pass, paying little mind to the blood running down his wrist. A manakete was no different from a Garou or Kitsune, after all. She was human, just a human with exceptionally sharp nails and horns that split the skin on her forehead, allowing beads of blood to mix with the sweat there. The sun set, but while the air outside grew cooler, the temperature in the room stayed much the same as a few dozen candles were brought in and lit. Despite the Hoshidan excuse for dusk being positively blinding by a Nohrian's standard, the midwife insisted she needed more light to see. As the candles were being lit, Gunther helped Nerr strip down to her shift. Dampened with sweat, it clung to her skin, and the dark red stain on her lap stood out even more against the paler fabric. She leaned against him heavily, moaning with every strained breath._

_“I can't do this...” Her voice sounded so weak, so unnatural coming from her. He squeezed her hand tightly._

_“Yes, you can. You are strong enough to get through anything.” She opened her mouth, most likely to protest, but whatever words she intended had been cut off by a strangled gasp. She curled up, trembling violently._

_“It hurts....” At once, the midwife came over, spreading her legs wider and lifting her shift._

_“I believe it's time now. Oujou-sama, I'm going to need you to concentrate now.” Nerr shook her head wildly, her hair sticking to her face as tears sprang from her eyes anew._

_“No... no no no, please don't make me...”_

_“You have to. It will not take long.” It was a kind lie, but a lie nonetheless. For two more hours they stayed in that room. Gunther rubbed her back and bathed her brow, trying to coach her as she seemed hellbent to ignore the midwife's instruction, weakly protesting._

_Despite her best efforts, however, nature took its course, leaving her an unwilling participant. Every contraction left her screaming in agony. The look of distaste the midwife gave every time indicated such behavior was unseemly in Hoshido. The knight wanted nothing more than to slap that insolent expression off her face, but settled for telling her that if she took such offense, she could leave and he would deliver his own child. She apologized at once, perhaps realizing how callous she must have seemed (though more likely she simply wanted to ensure she received her full payment), taking on a more amicable air as the screaming continued._

_Every time it made him wince, even though he expected it. All of Kouga could probably hear her. Did they wonder what was wrong? Did they care? No, probably not. The only people who cared were in the very room the agonized shrieking came from. The last one was more of a hoarse, drawn out whine, and Gunther watched, breathless, as the Hoshidan woman moved between Nerrs' legs, half obscured by her shift. His heart pounded painfully against his ribs, every muscle in his body tense, instinctively waiting... waiting for nothing. The midwife straightened, grabbing the folded linen beside her. Her face had gone pale despite the sweat on her brow, her lips pursed. The silence stretched on, deafening in it's obtrusiveness. Despite being told there was nothing to hope for, he_ **_expected_ ** _it, expected to hear loud wailing coming from the bundle the other woman was wrapping up. But no. No cries came, no sounds of life. Only that of Nerr gasping weakly for breath. She released his hand in her exhaustion, one arm draped over her forehead while the other lay limply at her side. The older man swallowed, trying to keep his own breathing calm._

_“I want to see them.” The midwife looked up, her brows drawn together._

_“I don't think that's wise, oku-sama. The body--”_

_“I do not_ **_care_ ** _what you think; give me my child.” It_ **_was_ ** _his child. Even if it would never draw breath or call him “Father”, it was his, damn it. Clearly going against her better judgment, the Hoshidan woman gingerly held out the cloth bundle. Gunther's hands shook as he took it- there was a substantial weight to it. He barely noticed her get to her feet, her voice quiet as she slowly backed away._

_“It may take some hours for the afterbirth to pass, but the worst is over. Should her pain return, I will only be a short ways away.”_

_She bowed herself out the room, sliding the screen gently behind her, but he didn't care where she went. He didn't need some strange Hoshidan to deal with the last stages of labor. He didn't even need her to deliver a child; he could easily have done that all himself. No, he had hoped, foolishly- so, so foolish and naïve- that she might have been able to do something to_ **_help_ ** _. Something he couldn't. The tiny, damp cloth in his hands would be burned into his mind as a testament that there was no one up there listening to his pleas and prayers. Lifting the bloody edges, he had to stop and close his eyes. The gods were cruel, cruel and wicked. For so long, he had grown used to seeing bloody clots that looked no more like humans than salamanders, but there was no mistaking that this was a baby. He could make out every toe, every finger, even though they were all darkened, nearly black with thick nails. A thin tail curled under it, and a sharp lower jaw that protruded past the tiny, blue lips. The midwife's disgust was understandable; she must have thought she was touching some kind of cursed, deformed monster, but all Gunther saw was a perfect little dragon, a daughter who would have grown up powerful and fearless like her mother but for three more wretched months._

_“What is it?” His heart lurched at the hoarse whisper. He hadn't even noticed Nerr staring at him for who knew how long, tears leaking silently from her wide eyes._

_“A girl.” Their daughter would have had eyes like that too, big rubies that sparkled when she was happy and flashed when angered... The princess' face crumpled and she covered it with both hands, sobbing wretchedly._

_For hours, her tears would peter out only to start anew. He had been reluctant to let her see what was left of their child for a moment- she could do without the sight of skin sloughing off of rotting flesh- but she was adamant, gently running her finger over the two little stumps on the child's back that must have been half-formed wings. She had always expressed her fear and apprehension at the thought of having a child with the same “affliction” as her, but there was nothing but love in her eyes as she gazed upon her would-be daughter. Love and sorrow and pain. There was no way to return to Nohr with the little body in tow, no way to bury her alongside her brothers and sisters. Shura offered (much, much later that night) a resting place in the garden of Kouga's manner, he'd arrange for a marker and monk to offer a prayer. They would be able to visit any time, and would know that she would always be looked over and cared for by the people of Kouga, Shura especially. Nerr was too weak and distraught to do anything but nod in silence. Gunther dug the hole himself..._

Despite his insistence that Empress Hinoka would understand fully if they cut their visit short and returned to Nohr, Nerr had insisted they continue. The world did not stop for any death, and life went on. Indeed, it did. Even with the loss still raw in their hearts, both of them quickly fell back into the monotony of their new life, visiting duchies on different orders, consulting with the king, sitting at dinners they didn't want with nobles they couldn't stand... retiring to their room when given the chance and curling up together. And every day, the pain grew less and less unbearable, until the joyful hope of a new child took hold of them once again. And just like the last time, that hope was dashed against cold, hard rocks. Gunther was not a man who gave up easily. He bided his time, waiting for a chance to slip in and kill Garon for nearly forty years, in spite of more time proving detrimental to his cause. He survived wars and famines and horrors that would break a lesser man, pushing past that. But this was too much to simply brush off and start anew... 

Every time before, it had been hatred and spite driving him to continue, and he realized now _that_ was why he had made it so far. Failing did not set him back- it only added to the seething inspiration he had. But _this_ , having hope and losing it... _this_ broke him, into so many pieces it was getting harder to put himself back together each time. He could love a child that wasn't of his blood. Flora, Felicia, Lilith- gods help him, even Jakob. _Especially_ Jakob, whom he might not have doted on but still raised and loved as though he were his true-born son. That would be enough for him, more than enough even. But Nerr... it was easy to believe she would resent an adopted child, would see them as a monument to her failure, a constant reminder that someone else had done what she couldn't. It would be unfair for every party involved. So he pushed that hopeful thought down into the depths of his mind when it couldn't hurt and disappoint him. If she wanted to try again for a child of her own after she convalesced, then he would help her, no questions asked. His drifting thoughts didn't matter; he wanted what _she_ wanted, what would make her happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter is short, but I hadn't originally planned for this to have chapters at all. It started out as a one-shot, but grew longer and longer, so I had to try and segment it. The next chapter is longer.


	3. Chapter 3

000000000000

_ "Can you heal me miraculously? _

_ I prayed I'd vanish completely _

_ Existence had become a chore _

_ What are you hugging me so tightly for…? _

000000000000

The days immediately after were always the worst. Walking through the halls of Krakenburg to a chorus of whispers that dimmed when he drew near, replaced with “sympathetic” gazes and words of “consolation” that rang so false he could barely keep a smile plastered on his face. 

“We heard what happened to your lady wife.” 

“Such a shame.” 

“Poor dear doesn't deserve such hardships...” 

“She's in our prayers.” Gunther thanked the noble lords and ladies for their kindness while mentally counting the seconds until they once more started their contemptuous mutterings. He'd just excused himself, taken no more than three steps when he heard it, “A pig-fucking peasant and byak mongrel; what do you expect?”  _ There _ it was. He wasn't even out of earshot; that had to be a new record.

It was almost laughable; they thought to hurt him with their words. He'd been whipped and stabbed, shocked and set aflame, and told that he  _ deserved  _ it. Their childish insults barely registered, but he would be sure to remind the King that houses Calliwell and Bailey had been derelict in paying their taxes. Later, however. He was on his way to the kitchens now. Nerr was still in bed, the curtains drawn, the candles snuffed out. The darkness soothed her, she said, it helped her sleep. And sleep she did. Even if she had been in a mood to go about her usual tasks, it was unlikely she would have found the strength to get out of bed. One of the few good things about Krakenburg (and gods, there were so few) was that the kitchens were always fully stocked, and with richer fare than the rations they kept in the Citadel. Milk and marrow bones and fresh meat- things that could get her strength back. Though even if they were still in the mountains, he'd have gone out and hunted a wyvern if that was what it took.

For sixteen years, he had taken care of his little liege's needs, but gods above, they had been so simple back then. Chopping wood and running drills and braving the vicious winds to get to Windmire and back was so easy compared to  _ this _ . He felt as though he were treading on caltrops in his own marriage, though it was through no fault of Nerr's and honestly, he couldn't find a way to blame it on himself either. Sorrow hung over them as surely as clouds hung over the sun, and he was just as powerless to wave away one as the other. The knight (he would always be a knight, regardless of what position he held) was so entrenched in his thoughts he barely noticed the youngest Nohrian royal until he nearly stepped on her.

“My pardons, Lady Elise. I didn't see you there.” She straightened quickly, clutching her kirtle like a makeshift basket. There were small stones and petals crushed into the carpet at her feet.

“It's fine! Leo would've just run over me.”

“You seem to have dropped some of your... things, milady.” Gunther stooped, ignoring the ache in his back as he did so, gathering several of the shiny rocks she had missed. “Surely you haven't been working in the mines?” Elise giggled, a sound that made his heart wrench. Nerr used to laugh just like that when she was her sister's age.

“No, silly! I was in the glen, the one just outside the outer bailey? With Effie! Nerr always goes out there, but since she can't go outside now, I'm bringing the outside to her!” He smiled warmly, patting her head.

“I'm certain she will greatly appreciate it, milady. Nerr does love her little trinkets.” She used to line them up on her windowsill when she was a child, feathers and rocks and dried plants her siblings brought her, souvenirs of a world that was off limits to her. The young girl beamed at him, but rather than head towards the eastern villa, she fell into step beside him as he made his way to the kitchens.

Most of the royals would not have deigned to spend a moment longer than necessary with him. Camilla kept her disgust to herself, but it was always simmering just below the surface, and Leo simply didn't enjoy being in anyone's company but his own. And even though Xander had calmed and now treated him with as much respect as any noble born lord, there was still a hint of some passive loathing that made any interaction not grounded in politics unpleasant. Young Elise did not have such foibles. She had a warmth and cheer about her regardless of who was in her presence, and like her adopted sister, she seemed to have a particular fondness for the smallfolk. 

She spoke a mile a minute about everything from the weather, to her hope that Xander would hold court further south in the coming months, to her excitement that she'd gotten another letter from Princess Sakura. And in truth, Gunther was glad for the distraction. After so many long nights where the quiet was only broken by soft weeping, he was more than happy to listen to the young princess chatter about the bolt of silk her Hoshidan friend had sent her.

“I was going to give Nerr a piece, you know, for that blanket she's been working on?” The cordial air between them chilled as the blonde girl gasped, only just now realizing what she spoke of. The draconic princess had begun working on her quilt last year, when her bouts of morning sickness had first begun. Gunther would find her in that chair her brother gifted her, humming a familiar tune to herself as she stitched together various colored squares, fabrics from every duchy on both sides of the continent.

__ _ “It's small now, but it's going to get bigger,” _ She told him proudly, holding up her handiwork for him to see.  _ “Just as our grasp on peace is tenuous, but will get stronger. I want our little one to know that I keep that peace for them, with the same devotion I put into this...” _ And get bigger it did. Every babe that bled away found her back in that chair, adding more pieces, no longer a symbol of peace but a monument of grief and loss. If she added any more panels to it, it would be a coverlet sized for a king's bed... 

“Oh... Oh no, I'm sorry! I didn't mean--”

“You've nothing to apologize for, milady. You meant no harm. And your sister would probably welcome something bright and colorful in her chambers. Sewing seems to calm her...” That and running, but she was in no condition to run laps. Elise stared up at him, her wide violet eyes bright with the beginnings of tears.

“Gunther? Is Nerr ever going to have a baby?” He flinched, as though her words had burnt him. They had, in a way, like a firebrand pressed to his soul. That was the question they had been asking for well over a year, wasn't it?

“Your sister has had many babes, princess. They simply are not long for this world.”

“But why? That's not fair!”

“Life rarely is...” She fell silent, her steps slowing and halting.

“So... you're going to adopt a child?” Gunther froze, his gaze cold as he looked back at her.

“Where did you hear that?”

“From Nerr. I brought her some pastries last week and she wouldn't eat them. She said there's no reason to get her strength up if she can't have a baby, and...” She frowned, trying to remember what was said. “And, 'If he's going to bring some whore's bastard to me, I might as well starve'.” He swore under his breath, his steps heavy with anger and loathing. Why did he even have to open his gods damned mouth?  _ Especially _ then, speaking of another person's child not even an hour after she'd lost her own? She was going to remember this and hold it against him until his dying day, he was certain of it. Elise's feet padded on the soft carpet as she ran to try and keep up with him.

“So are you?”

“No!” He snapped, far more harshly than he should have. It was not  _ her _ fault he had been so tactless. “Forgive me, milady. I just... I...” Groaning, he pinched the bridge of his nose. His father'd had crooked nose too, as did several of his nephews. He always wondered what traits of his his children would bear. “I just want it to be easier for her. She tells me time and again how sick she is of trying only to fail, and I thought... maybe it's time to stop trying...” Elise finally reached him, panting slightly. She reached up, gently patting his arm, the highest spot she could reach. Her expression was sympathetic, but her words were hard.

“Considering you pretty much  _ raised _ Nerr, you really are stupid when it comes to her, aren't you? You're telling her to give up. Does she ever give up on anything?” Well... yes, there had been  _ one _ thing. She'd told him that when Xander crushed her dreams of marrying him, she'd given up on her hope of having a happy life... and instead vowed to conquer Hoshido and later, to fell Garon. But that was an outlier, and Gunther kept that fact to himself.

“No, I suppose she doesn't.”

“Right? Didn't she keep trying to hold a wyrmslayer even  _ after _ it burnt her hands?” 

“Yes...” He'd had to pry it from her grasping little hands, the stench of burnt flesh almost as distracting as her desperate attempts to take it back from him.

“And that was just a stupid sword! Why would you think she'd be happy giving up the chance to have a baby?”  _ 'Because it would be easier if she did... it would be easier for  _ **_me_ ** _...' _

“I don't know, Lady Elise... You have given me firm, but much needed council, and I thank you for it.” The princess smiled at him, the way one smiled when they finally managed to teach a dog a simple trick. 

“And, you know, if you're going to try and spring a random baby on her, at  _ least _ soften the blow. Get her a puppy or something first.” 

“That... is a very sound idea, milady. Thank you.” At least now he had something to think of other than his own foolishness.

000

As the summer months began to wind down, the castle became even more intolerable as the common folk inquired when Hoshidan crops would be imported to supplement their own middling returns, and merchants asked what would be done about the unusually high tariffs, and nobles wondered how much of this cost was going to come from their family's coffers. It was little wonder Nerr tried to stay holed up in their chambers as much as possible. Every day that he had to stand beside the king and remind these fools in their silks and brocades to form a line, dammit, Gunther felt himself die a little more on the inside. He was not meant for this life. He should have been outside, chopping wood and cutting wheat and he could so easily see Nerr standing in the doorway of their little house in Nestra with a sweet babe on her hip, telling him to come in before it got dark and the Garou came down from the mountains... It was a blessed relief when the levee was finally over.

Grappling with a Hoshidan mage in full armor while his skin blistered and melted wasn't as uncomfortable as listening to pompous lords whine. What did they know of suffering? Suffering was hearing whispers that your neighbor had eaten their young daughter after she froze in the winter. Suffering was watching dozens of soldiers, your brothers and sisters in arms, fall to the ground, convulsing and gushing blood from every orifice as Kougan devils bore down on them.  _ He _ knew suffering, and in this moment, suffering was the dark, dreary room where sorrow and paperwork was waiting on him, so instead the knight made his way outside the castle gates once the king gave him his leave. He thought of heading to the stable first, but his legs had other ideas. Half an hour later, Gunther found himself hiking east of Krakenburg. He hadn't even bothered to change- no doubt his fine velvet doublet and breeches were going to be caked in dirt and riddled with holes, but he couldn't care less. It wasn't as if Nerr had made these for him. 

Whereas Hoshido was in the height of summer now, the leaves were already beginning to turn brown in Nohr, at least this far north. Soon, they would be buried in snow and all but the hardiest plants would die. In a few years, the skies over the continent would change, and for once they would be blessed with warmth and light and hopefully a good harvest, but the shifting weather often lead to outbreaks of sickness,  _ especially _ in heavily populated areas. He had half a mind to take Nerr, Jakob and Felicia, and hole them up in the Citadel until the darkness came back, but there would be plenty of time later to prepare for death and destruction. As he walked into the glen, he thought only of life. It was impossible not to; there were many hunting forests around Windmire, but this was one of the few places where there was an abundance of life, an almost microcosm of Hoshido. 

There was a Dragon's Gate further in, a long forgotten ruin built by the Ancient Ones. He and Nerr often used to sit beside it as she wondered what her ancestors were like. Their power still flowed through this place, she said; that was why it was fertile, though the rocky ground and thick, intersecting roots left it non arable. Perhaps that was why she was fond of it, or perhaps she just liked natural water. Princess Azura had as well, always the first to find a stream or river for them to fill up their canteens as they trekked through Hoshido. The cervine creature standing in the lake might have frightened another soul, with its spindly legs and disproportionately long neck, but it was a pleasing sight for Gunther.  _ 'At least she's out of bed...' _ Nerr's head was dipped in the water- all he could see was the gilded branching horns as he stepped closer to the shore, waiting for her to rise.

“ _ Why are you here?” _ Even in his mind, her voice was tired.

“The same reason as you, I suppose.” Water cascaded down her neck as she raised her head, looking back at him over her shoulder. A large chunk of raw flesh hung from her bony jaw, gray and falling apart with age.

“ _ No, I don't think you are...” _

“Nerr, don't eat--” He groaned as his words fell on deaf ears (wherever they were on her), the dragon throwing its head back to allow the meat to slip down her throat to swallow it whole, much like a bird. “You're going to get sick eating random carrion.”

“ _ So? _ ” Gunther wondered how similar the Ancient Ones had been to his wife. Because if he hadn't been looking directly  _ at _ a new god of old tearing apart a carcass, you could not have paid him to believe that was what he was speaking to. In this moment, there was nothing majestic, fearful, or awe-inspiring about this creature; all he saw beneath the wings and claws and horns was a petulant girl giving him the stink eye when he told her to stop gorging herself on sweets after training. Toeing off his boots, he rolled up his breeches and waded into the icy water.

“ _ So _ you are already unwell. The last thing you need is to spend the night hugging a bucket because you decided roast beef suddenly wasn't good enough for you.” She'd been doing that more and more lately, refusing to eat, regardless of what was put in front of her. Princess Elise's words came back to him, what Nerr had told the girl,  _ I might as well starve _ ... Well, she definitely wasn't starving, ripping off another piece of meat, this one riddled with tufts of hair and shards of bone (what the hell lay at her feet?), but it wasn't much better. The older man sighed, trying to style his voice into something less biting. “Dearest... What is the meaning of this? You have a king's banquet laid out before you in the castle. If you want something raw, they'd slaughter a pig or goat for you fresh. ...or, if you were so inclined, there's a slaver in the dungeons who's already scheduled for execution...?” She glared at him. He could not see her eyes, covered with skin as they were, but he  _ knew _ she was glaring. “Sorry. Humor was never my strong point...” Nerr said nothing for the longest time, swallowing her rancid meat and folding her long legs under herself to lie down in the water. 

“ _ I don't want to go back to the castle. I  _ **_hate_ ** _ it there. Everything went to hell the moment I set foot in that wretched place. It's like a curse was placed on me...” _

“Nerr...” He approached her, the water that had barely come up to her knee when she stood already beginning to encroach on his thighs. Of course, there was no point comparing himself to a creature who stood a good eight feet from knuckle to shoulder.

“ _ For so long, I wanted to live here, to see my siblings every day and have the same freedom they did. I thought, 'I would do anything, I would  _ **_give_ ** _ anything, for that'...” _ Her tail lashed at the water angrily, the waves she caused swaying him. “ _ Mens' screams in my nightmares, visions of hell every waking hour, an empty womb... Was  _ **_that_ ** _ the price I paid for my freedom? Or the price of Nohr's 'glory', at least...” _

“Oh, my dearest darling... There's no curse on you. Surely you don't believe there are witches lurking in the shadows, looking to make your life hell for a quick laugh?”

__ _ “No...” _

“And do you think any gods up there actually care enough to waste their thoughts on a single girl?”

“ **_No_ ** _.” _ She looked back at him once more. He could hear her tears in his mind. “ _ But then why? Why does this keep happening? I can endure everything else; the nightmares, the headaches- food doesn't taste like anything to me anymore, and I've never once complained! Why must this one thing keep tormenting me!?” _

Her body warmed, light shining from her pores as her limbs shrunk, extra parts drawing back into her flesh while it grew pale and soft. It only took a few seconds; if he blinked, he'd have missed it, but Nerr told him it felt like an eternity when it happened. When his dear wife appeared before him as a human once more, the water came up past her hips, which he could only assume were as bare as her torso. Any questions that may have arisen were chased from his mind by the sound of her weak, pitiful sobs. Wading forth (and wishing he wasn't weighed down by sodden velvet), Gunther took her into his arms, stroking her hair as she wept into his chest.

__

“It's not fair!  _ It's not fair! _ I can conquer a kingdom, but I can't birth a child?! The Ancient Ones created entire continents, and I can't create a single life?! The  _ one _ thing I cannot do is the one thing intrinsic to every creature in this gods' forsaken world!” The knight remained silent through her bitter rant, until her anger gave way to sorrow once more, and she was left clinging to him like a child. “I am worthless! I am wretched! Put me out of my misery!” He instead continued stroking her hair, pushing the wet strands behind what remained of her left ear.

__

“Tell me something, dearest. If our situations were switched- if you could lay with another man who could father you a child but  _ I _ couldn't- would you think less of me?”

“No!” She looked up at him, eyes wide and gleaming, the slits of her pupils so blown out in sorrow they looked almost round. “You know I wouldn't!”

__

“So why do you think less of  _ you?” _ The younger girl gaped at him, at a loss for words. “You have done so much in your few years, Nerr. People might attribute it to your brother because he is the king, but they all know  _ you _ conquered Hoshido, and they all know that this reign would fall apart without your efforts. You're a divine creature that walks amongst us, the one who wields the Yatogami... Your name will go down in history, my love; the Conquering Monarch, the new Old God, the Chosen One... So why are you a failure if they don't add 'Mother' to that list?”

“I don't know!” She wailed. “I don't know! Because that's what I  _ want _ to be! I don't  _ want _ to be 'The Chosen One', I don't  _ want _ to be a god! I  _ want _ to be a wife that can give you children!” Her lips had stopped moving, but he still heard her speak, clear as day, in his mind.  _ Like that peasant whore you married... _ Gunther bent to press his lips to the top of her head.

“You've given me joy, and laughter, and warmth, and hope. You've given this broken down, miserable old fool a reason to live, and a reason to smile. Isn't that enough?”

“No.” She groused, her voice muffled by his doublet.

“Yes, it is, you silly creature.” He lifted her chin to face him. “All this time, you've said ' _ you _ want,  _ you _ want,  _ you _ want'; does it not matter to you what  _ I _ might want? I want you to laugh with your brothers and sisters, to yell at the nobles and chase the crows off the battlements and terrorize the drunks in Windmire who think you're some random tart. I want you to  _ smile _ again, Nerr.” She blinked, tears dripping from her lashes as she struggled not to look away from him.

“...but it's hard...”

“I know, my darling, I know. I know how hard it is to be happy when it feels as though your sorrows are overflowing. To simply think it would be better to end it all than live another day all alone, because surely no one understands your pain. But you  _ aren't _ alone, Nerr.” He reached down, threading his fingers between hers. “I'm here with you.” The princess shut her eyes tightly and squeezed his hand, a barely noticeable squeeze, but more than enough. Kissing her temples, a slight metallic tang clinging to her skin, Gunther gently led her back to the shore. As the water grew more shallow, he noticed that she was, in fact, completely nude.

“Do you come here and get naked without me often?”

“Yes.” She whispered, cuddling closer to the knight's side. He remained silent for a while, before finally asking,

“Why?”

“I don't know. It just makes me feel better.” She stopped walking, the lake at her ankles as water streamed down her legs to join it. “Sometimes, when I'm in my true form, I can just... stop thinking. I'm not a princess, or an ambassador; I'm just a dragon. A dragon doesn't wonder 'why', or even care. It loses it's spawn and goes to find something to eat. ...it's easier like that...” Gunther felt his heart break as he looked at his wife, small and shivering and utterly miserable, but he made sure not to show it on his face.

“Perhaps we can go hunting together.” Nerr looked up at him, suspicion brewing behind her furrowed brows and pursed lips.

“You mean that?”

“Of course. If you feel up to it, that is.” She frowned for a moment, but ultimately nodded.

“I... think I'd like that. It would be nice to do something together...”  _ Something that isn't moping _ , he added silently as he watched the princess pull her clothes out from under a log, shaking the dirt from her gown before slipping it on. It was difficult to imagine her sneaking out of the castle wearing nothing but a thin shift, but given how lethargic she had been these past few weeks, it was hard to imagine her doing anything.

Maybe that was part of the problem. Maybe his walking on eggshells around her had only contributed to her sour mood. Vaguely, Gunther remembered what Elise had spoken to him, reminding him that he'd all but raised her sister. The last time he had treaded so lightly around her had resulted in a similar sullen state. As she tied her hair up into a bun that immediately began coming loose, the knight held his hand out to her, still smiling despite his urge to let it slip. Crimson eyes met his, and for a horrible moment, he expected her to slap his hand away as she had done in the king's quarters. But there was no rebuke this time. A bit of the tension in her shoulders seemed to ease as she placed her hand in his. His smile widened, more sincere this time. Even though it went against every one of his instincts, it seemed the best way forward was to simply go back to the way things had been. To act as though nothing had happened. As if their hope had never died.

000

It took baby steps, getting their life back to normal. They still didn't take their meals with the rest of the royal family for a while yet, but Gunther stopped begging and trying to coax her to eat the smallest bite. While every fiber of his being screamed at him to stay at her side, to keep an eye on her and make sure she was actually eating, he instead left her meals up to Jakob and Felicia, insisting to himself that she'd eat if she was hungry. And despite the wretched little voice in the back of his head assuring him that he'd killed her and she would waste away, the color seemed to be returning to Nerr's face. With his tone no longer a somber whisper, words flowed easier between them, and soon she was even assisting him with his papers, just as she used to. She seemed to have finally put their latest loss behind her, just as she had said she wanted to. A dragon was happiest when it moved forward.

And while Gunther found himself thinking about it at the strangest moments, he too forced himself to stop mourning so deeply. He had a son that died, and he had managed to put  _ that _ from his mind after decades. And just as then, it was easier to keep from dwelling when he was preoccupied. There was no more war to fight, and neither he nor his wife would appreciate his tried and true method of distracting oneself- with liquor. And mood-alter substances. And far too many combinations of intercourse with far too many people. So he filled the time his mind drifted back to the children they wouldn't have instead with her. Every waking moment that wasn't spent working was spent with Nerr, doing  _ something _ to keep their thoughts preoccupied. Shopping, picnicking, the strangest bout of hunting he'd ever seen. It was honestly more of a honeymoon than their actual one. What had begun as a two week stay in Cyrkensia ended after only one as a disturbance in Chevalier brought them back to the capital. But as the second anniversary of the war's end crept closer, the chaos had begun to plateau, allowing them uninterrupted moments of simple bliss.

  
Gunther found himself smiling more easily once again, even when he watched his wife tear into a freshly slaughtered deer carcass (at least this one wasn't putrefying). _She_ was more at ease these days, and once again, they fell back into the habit of whispering sweet, silly nothings, both in the day as well as when they lay together at night. More than once, Nerr had convinced him to stay in their dragon's gate glen when night fell, the dense forest far warmer than the rest of the outdoors. They had less than when they made camp during their march on Hoshido, but it was infinitely more comfortable. And more than once, their cheerful whispers and affectionate touches grew amorous. The voice in the back of his head told him it was too soon, but her voice, warm and husky against his ear, easily convinced him that it had been far too long.

In those first weeks after the wedding, they'd coupled with the frenzied rush of rabbits in the spring, eager, almost desperate to start the family they'd already begun planning. There was no longer any urgency, the intensity and desperation long since exhausted. It went unspoken between them, but he could feel that they were no longer making an active attempt to have another child, and that more than anything lifted the weight that had settled on his heart. Now, when she climbed atop him under the stars, or he slid behind her in the castle's dark alcoves, it was once more an expression of love and joy, not a chore they were trying to get done. And gods above, it was wonderful. To indulge in one another's bodies in any way they liked, rather than be restricted to certain positions, to not be conscious of any special days when they might have a better chance at success... 

“Gods, I've missed having sex for fun...” He told her as he led her to the stables one afternoon, his jerkin unlaced in an attempt to cool his still heated flesh. Nerr grinned cheekily at him, putting her hair up as sloppily as one could. He'd have to fix that. 

“As if it isn't always fun for you.” 

“I'm not a Stoneborn that can work without tiring. Thirty years ago, I'd have had you begging for mercy after a single afternoon. These days...” He glanced over his shoulder at her. “I hope you don't get upset, but in the past, I often faked finishing just so we could go to sleep.” The princess frowned. 

“No, you didn't. Men can't fake a climax.” 

“Oh, really?” 

“Yes.” 

“You're quite sure about that?” 

“Yes!” It was his turn to grin. 

“Tell me if any of this sounds familiar,” Gunther turned slightly to face her, running a hand through his hair, mussing it back into it's bedraggled state. A sharp gasp preceded hoarse, rhythmic moans and heavy breaths. As late in the day as it was, the halls were blessedly empty of nosy nobles, and any unseen servants had heard all this and worse before. The sheer dumbfounded shock on Nerr's face was nearly enough to make him break, but he pressed on, throwing his head back and stiffening with a keening groan... which he immediately broke off to fix her with a sly smirk. “Was that as good for you as it was for me?” 

“You absolute  _ ass!” _ She slapped his arm, but there was no anger in her voice or eyes as she began walking past him. “All this time, I'm thinking 'I'm actually  _ good _ at this sex-thing', but you've just been putting on a show--” 

“I assure you I'm not doing this because I find our love-making inadequate.” He caught up to her with two quick strides, reaching down and twining their fingers together. 

“Then why?” She tried to keep a blasé tone, but Gunther could hear the undertone of uncertainty, of doubt. He squeezed her hand. 

“Because I'm an old man, Nerr. For that first month, it was fine, but afterwards, you wanted to go at it three, four times a  _ day _ ,”  _ 'Always standing...' _ “What was I supposed to do? Tell my beautiful, lusty young wife 'No, I  _ don't  _ want to have sex with you. I'd rather take a nap'?” 

“YES!” She exclaimed, looking up at him like he was an idiot. He shook his head sadly. 

“To do that, I would have died of shame. So, brave soul that I am, I soldiered on... and then I realized if I kept this up, I'd die on top of you. I thought it was a fair compromise; you got your pleasure, and I got to pleasure you and continue living.” Nerr didn't seem at all convinced of his words, casting her gaze down, doubt and shame crinkling her brow. 

“So for this past year, have you found no joy, no pleasure, in being with me? ...I suppose I did push you more than a wife should... I can see how that would get tedious...” Gunther's eyes softened and he released his wife's hand, only to fall in step behind her and wrap his arms around her shoulders. Her blouse had a high neck, but she'd left it unbuttoned, and from above, he could see the thick, mottled skin that scarred her sternum.  _ 'My poor little ladyship must think her trials never end...' _

“No joy? No pleasure? Have you forgotten how many seeds I planted in your belly?” Her cheeks were obscured, but her flush extended all the way to her ears. “Every moment I spend in your presence is a joy and a pleasure, my love. I just couldn't bear to disappoint you with my shortcomings.” Nerr craned her head back to look up at him. 

“Caring too much about disappointing me is not a shortcoming, you old fool.” 

“And yet, it is the burden I bear. It's a lonely road I walk, being too smart, working too hard, and having strengths that are far too strong.” Nerr laughed deeply. 

“You stupid.” She reached up, covering his hand with hers. It was expected for a lady's hand to be soft and delicate, like a child's. Nerrs' was small, but he could feel the thick calluses from years of swordplay. Hands that he'd taught to kill and maim now gently stroked his gnarled fingers.  _ 'Her hands are as dirty as mine, now...' _ “So are you ever going to tell me what's in the stables that's so important?” She snapped him from his grim thoughts, still looking up at him as they walked, much slower now. Neither of them were paying attention to where they were going; had the corridor been shorter, Gunther could easily see them tumbling down three flights of stairs and landing in a tangled heap of broken bones. 

“We're going to kill ourselves in the stupidest way possible one of these days...” 

“What?” 

“Nothing.” He quickly tried to change the topic, releasing his embrace and urging her to walk faster with a slight shove to the rear. “And you'll see shortly. It's not twenty minutes to the stables and you would have me ruin the surprise?” 

“I don't like surprises.” She pouted. 

“Yes, you do!” Groaning, she acquiesced. 

“Yes, I do... Can't you at least give me a hint?” 

“Just one hint?” Gunther gave her a severe look as she nodded eagerly. Feigning a long suffering sigh (gods knew he had enough practice to make it sound convincing), the old knight relented. “Alright.  _ One _ hint.” He leaned down to whisper in her ear conspiratorially. “Your surprise... is in the stables.” 

“ _ I will eat your family, Gunther!” _

“You  _ are _ my family, fool girl. Now stop trying to spoil your own surprise.” He tried to give her another slap on the backside, but she danced out of the way, whirling around and smacking his instead. 

“You don't spank a dragon; dragons spank  _ you _ .” 

“Don't start a game you aren't willing to finish, princess.” Her laughter bounced off the walls, and the symphony of joyful Nerrs left Gunther feeling giddy with happiness. For the first time in so long, he didn't feel like a broken down relic, constantly skirting death's threshold in fear. In that moment, he was a young man in his prime, bouncing with barely contained excitement as he lead his sweetheart to see the Grand Gesture of Love he'd arranged. He used to sneer when he saw the Lotharios leading girls around fairs and festivals. Now, forty years too late, he was one of them, and  _ gods _ he loved it.

000

Nohr's calvary was the backbone of her unbeatable military, and as such, the stables in Krakenburg were among the finest not just in the continent, but the world at large, no doubt. They could have easily housed several villages and small towns, and provided more jobs than them as well. Smiths, grooms, trainers, armorers; if one couldn't find a job in the army itself, they could undoubtedly find one caring for the horses (or wyverns, but that required it's own unique expertise). Gunther had spent twenty-odd years navigating the veritable maze and being inundated with the sight, sound and smell of horses. As such, he walked purposefully, pausing only to give his own courser an affection pat on the neck as he passed. Nerr was a far different creature. 

Perhaps because there was so little variety back at the Citadel, or even because things that were commonplace and blasé to him were still new and exciting to her, but regardless of the reason, the second princess of Nohr seemed to make it her mission to meet every horse they passed. They had all been broken, trained better than their riders in most cases, but that didn't change the fact that there could be some ornery mules amongst the herd. Gods knew Caractacus had been one of them, and even though he'd mellowed in his old age alongside his rider, the black gelding still showed signs of stubborn aggression. Never towards Nerr, though. The moment it saw her, the dumb beast would start nickering. And it wasn't just him. Almost every horse she passed turned to her, snuffing at her and leaning closer. He would have been a bit jealous if not for the sight of his wife's overwhelming happiness. She was practically jumping with excitement, though she restrained herself as she walked from pen to pen, her wide grin blooming into a look of rapturous delight when one of the horses lowered it's nose to her, blowing her bangs back with with the force of their breath. Her hair was all mussed when she returned to his side, eyes wide as she grinned ear to ear. He'd never seen such a beautiful woman. 

“They like me!” She told him, with all the innocent excitement of a child. Gunther smiled warmly at her, picturing in the back of his mind a little boy with teal hair and violet eyes who would give off the same glow of excitement the first time they introduced him to a horse. 

“They have good taste in women,” He teased. “But it's no surprise. Animals have always loved you.” 

“Not foxes.” She mumbled, her smile twisting into a bitter scowl, and the knight winced as he remembered  _ that _ incident. The horror that had transpired at the Kitsune hamlet still gave her nightmares. It was fresh in her mind, over a year after it happened; it would always be fresh. That was  _ her _ Kouga. He stroked her cheek with the back of a finger. 

“Those abominations wear the skin of men; I judge them as men. Real foxes wouldn't be so ignorant as to disdain you. They're clever beasts. If they saw you, they would slink around and tell all the other creatures in the woods that the Ancient Ones have returned, and they'd best be respectful.” Nerr looked up at him, her face somewhere between doubt and hopeful confusion. 

“That's not true, right? That's some fairytale nonsense, isn't it?” Gunther shrugged, turning sharply and leading her down another row of pens, seemingly at random. 

“Knights, princesses and dragons are 'fairytale nonsense' and yet here we stand, the trifecta.” He paused, looking down at her. His voice grew quiet as he spoke earnestly, all jests cast aside. “Being in your service, standing at your side, I have seen things I never would have believed possible. I have seen islands in a sea of clouds, and I have seen the old gods walk this earth once more. I've witnessed  _ true _ evil be vanquished, I was there as the forces of good in the world prevailed for _ once _ . ...I saw the dead come back to life. Not a shambling corpse, or a husk of meat with nothing in it,” He stepped in front of her, taking both her hands in his, fully aware of just how badly his were shaking and not caring at all. 

“I held you in my arms as you went cold and limp. I heard you draw your last breath. ...and then I heard you breathe again. There is  _ nothing _ I won't believe after that, my lady.” She had stared up at him as he spoke, her bemusement slowly leaving her as dark clouds gathered behind her eyes. 

“...what if I told you hell was real?” 

“I would believe it.” He told her without a moment's hesitation, bringing her hands to his lips to kiss them. “But I wouldn't believe  _ you _ went there.” She frowned as he continued leading her. 

“I'm not a good person, Gunther. I've killed people, just as you have!” 

“Awww... you think that makes you a monster!” He cooed, grinning at the way she bristled but quickly growing serious. “Nerr, I've made camp with rapists who combed the battlefield for a warm hole, regardless of how much of it was still attached to a person. I've dined with women who smothered their babies and drank with men who slit their mothers' throats. If you think hell has room for you, you're grandly deluded.” Her face turned the color of sour milk, and for a moment, he regretted speaking to her so frankly. 

For all the wonders of the world, it was filled with vile, disgusting things. He'd had sixty years to get used to them; she'd had one. Still, he justified to himself, if she feared that she had seen the flames of hell in her death throes, it was a kindness to remind her that her sins were inconsequential when compared to the true horrors of humanity. If anyone was going to hell, it would be  _ him _ .  _ 'And I won't have long until I get there, either. So I need to make the life left to me count for as much as possible...' _ He stopped the princess, stepping behind her and covering her eyes with his hands. Just one palm was more than enough, but he wanted to make sure she couldn't peek. 

“Oh no, what are you doing now?” 

“Taking you to your surprise.” 

“Isn't it just a horse?” 

“Isn't a painting just colored bug paste smeared on paper? That doesn't mean you get to peek!” Nerr held up her hands in surrender, but that didn't stop her from trying to turn her head this way and that, looking for a sliver of light. Gunther threatened to pop her eyes out and stick them in his pocket if she didn't stop, and to his credit, she was laughing too hard to bother peeking as he carefully maneuvered her around the dirty straw and messes, finally stopping when they reached one of the furthest pens. 

“Is this it? Are we done, or were you planning on leading me all the way to Izumo?” It was just a temporary pen; he wanted to make sure no one would realize what he'd done and inform Nerr. 

“Close your eyes.” 

“They're  _ covered _ ...” 

“Did I stutter?” She sighed deeply, but he could feel her lashes brush against his palm. Slowly, he pulled his hands away, heart hammering against his ribs as he prayed he hadn't made a mistake. “Alright. You can look.” He had hoped she would be happy, but the possibility that she might get upset was always there in the back of his mind. Nerr's hands went to her mouth, stifling the squeal that would have sent every horse into a panic otherwise. She turned to Gunther, practically vibrating as she bounced on the balls of her feet. 

“It's a pegasus. That's a pegasus!” 

“Close. It's a falicorn.” Hoshido did not have a monopoly on winged steeds, but they were far rarer in the west than the east, only found in the wild on the far side of mountains near Chevalier. Wild falicorns were as dangerous as wild wyverns, so Gunther had gone the easier (though less chivalrous) route of purchasing from a breeder in Macarath. It cost a pretty coin, too, more gold than he could have saved in a decade on a knight's salary, but as the king's advisor, funds were no longer the pressing issue they had once been. Nerr was overwhelmed, unable to decide who she wanted to look at. She settled on the beautiful colt before her, though she still spoke to Gunther, even as she stepped into the stall to better see her gift. There wasn't much room for two beings; despite being young, the falicorn was large, its shimmering wings taking up nearly the entire pen even while tucked against its sides. 

“Where did you get him?  _ Why _ did you get him? He's mine, right? Oh,  _ please _ tell me he's mine!” 

“Of course he's yours, Nerr. I'm not going to hold a horse under your nose only to snatch it away. All your siblings have mounts, so I figured it was high time you had one of your own. He's saddle broken, but it'll be at least another year before he can fly, and you'll have to teach him that. In the interim, we can ride together, and not have poor Caractacus shoulder the whole load.” Nerr had been combing her fingers through her new steed's mane as he spoke, barely hearing a word he said more like than not. How long had it been since he'd seen her well and truly excited about something? Her old spark was back, the smile crinkling her eyes beautiful in its mindlessness again. And so, her subdued tone took him aback. 

“Why did you do this, Gunther?” 

“Excuse me?” He tried to brush off her questions. “Does a man need a reason to buy his wife a gift?” 

“A man does not simply go to the market and come back with a falicorn. ...well, some might. But not you. You don't give mindless gifts.” She looked at him thoughtfully. “Everything you've ever spent your coin on for me was done for a reason. So why this? Why a living, breathing animal as opposed to, say, jewelry?” The older man rocked back a bit. Her stare was unnerving, even when there was no anger or sadness or even disappointment in those unnatural eyes. He had done nothing wrong, nothing to be shameful of. And yet, the truth still made him uncomfortable to admit. 

“I thought a distraction would help you.” 

“A... distraction?” 

“Something warm, to love and care for. A cat would get lost in the castle- the last thing we need is another Mr. Boots, and a dog would be too rowdy after you've spent all day working. A mount is... practical.” Nerr's impassive expression broke and she laughed silently, her shoulders shaking. 

“You and your practicality...” She turned back to the colt, staring at it long and hard with a strange set to her jaw. “...so this is meant to be a replacement for the children I can't have?” 

“No,” Gunther quickly corrected her, approaching the stall but staying out of the falicorn's range. Bad enough when they could just bite, but this monstrosity had a damn misericord on its head. “Nothing can replace ones' children, Nerr. You must know that I understand that all too well. I just wanted to give you something to make you smile, and if it's something that can grow and be nurtured, all the better. It was a horse or a plant, and you have more experience with the former.” She remained silent, absentmindedly braiding a section of shimmering mane. 

“Nerr?” Surely she couldn't be upset... right? Letting her hands fall away, the young woman deftly slipped out of the pen and approached him, stepping onto his boots to raise herself higher. For a long moment, she stared at him in silence, before wrapping her arms around his chest. 

“Oh, my sweet, silly husband... I'd have been happy with flowers.”  _ 'Flowers die...' _ The Citadel used to be full of flowers; Elise would bring new bouquets she picked from the castle's hot house every time she came to visit. And they were beautiful, but it was a short lived beauty, something that only brought joy for a few days before withering and crumbling to dust. But he kept those thoughts to himself, where they belonged. 

“I'm not a man who does things in half measures, especially not concerning gifts for his dear wife.” 

“You're going to bankrupt the kingdom with that attitude.” 

“Not before your sisters do, I assure you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been wanting to post this for a month, but life has a way of... getting in the way, y'know?


	4. Chapter 4

000000000000

_ "What was once pure has become stained instead _

_ The crimson drops dying my fingers red _

_ I'll take you into myself so I can hold you near _

_ My dear…" _

000000000000

There was nothing quite so pleasing to his eye as looking down at Nerr as he rode beside her. She looked every inch a queen, tall atop her steed (which she had dubbed Constantine). Katerina and Arete could not hold a candle to her; every time she glanced at him and smiled, the sun seemed dimmer in comparison. It would have been easy to imagine that glow around her was simply born of the fresh air and exercise, but that niggling feeling in his gut said otherwise. The signs were there, signs that they silently yet unanimously agreed were better ignored. He'd seen it so many times now that the moment it became harder to rouse her in the morning, warning bells were resonating in his mind. If it weren't mad, he would swear he could  _ smell _ the change in her, but they said nothing. Gunther was silently grateful, even as guilt weighed heavy on his soul. After having their hopes dashed so many times, it was better to have no hope at all, but gods if he didn't feel like a failure of a man for not brimming with excitement. 

Nerr was no better. That warm, knowing smile she used to get was conspicuous in its absence. The only outward change for the longest time was that she no longer rode at anything more jarring than a light trot, her weariness and lack of appetite being chalked up by her siblings to stress. Krakenburg was as calm it could be for the rest of the short summer and well into autumn. It wasn't until winter was once more creeping to their door and Nerr had to change the cut of her gowns to ones whose waistline was situated far higher that the royal family (and of course, everyone else) became aware of the situation. For the most part, after all the anxious and frustrated inquiries to her well-being and why they had not shared this knowledge for four long months, they too adopted the attitude of simply ignoring the whole thing. Gunther had a sneaking suspicion that was due to Prince Leo having words with his siblings; he may have been emotionally distant, but he was smart enough to see that neither his sister nor his good brother were of a mind to tolerate another big fuss. 

Princess Elise was another matter entirely. The war may have matured her, but no years or trauma would ever be enough to change that ever excitable girl at her core, and as such, she spent damn near every day hopping around them. Gunther could ignore her well enough when his nerves were stretched too thin, but Nerr did not allow herself that luxury, enduring her sister's ceaseless questions and announcements and pestering with a well practiced smile. That was the look she wore when they were forced to dine with less tolerable nobles, a look of serene grace that belied her rising urge to kill. The bitter winds of winter seemed to dull that murderous anger, but they didn't stop her from leaving the castle. He saw her once, stepping out into the courtyard and contorting in a brilliant flash of light before running out. He almost wished they were back in the mountains. It was cold, and there was never enough food, but she wouldn't get it in her silly head to run out in  _ those _ blizzards. Or maybe she would. The snow that would normally bury her barely grazed her underside. 

More than once, he wondered if the babe in her belly also changed with her. To hear her say it, she could feel her insides twisting and slipping around, if only for a few seconds. Could their child feel it as well? A few times, Gunther had been tempted, had even begun to ask her if maybe she shouldn't change her form, at least not while she was expecting, but something always stopped him. The quiet voice of his doubts drilled into his mind, reminding him regardless of what she did or didn't do, their child's life always seemed determined by a coin flip from the gods. Dragons and manaketes had lived for hundreds of thousands of years before humans came along, and while they may have died out in this corner of the world, across the sea in lands like Archanea, it was rumored they still had strong colonies. ' _ She's a dragon,' _ He reminded himself when he watched her run past the bailey, most likely headed for the woods.  _ 'Let her be a dragon...' _ Indeed she was. 

As the miserable cold finally began to give way to warmer breezes from the east, it seemed the only time he saw the human woman he married and not the elder beast she had become was when they slept. Or when she slept, at any rate. Normally, her pregnancies would have her tossing and turning and running to the toilet all night, but as of late, she would fall asleep the near second her head hit the pillows and sleep soundly, only shifting once or twice. Gunther felt his heart swell every night he watched her rest peacefully, but the gnawing dread grew stronger as well. It had happened before, the last time he let his guard down and dared think there was not misery waiting close at hand. He wanted to tear the hope from him and dash it upon Krakenburg's stones so it couldn't hurt when it was crushed, but he still couldn't help staring at his wife's belly, quietly praying as he watched the outline of a hand or foot press against the skin there, praying that they would grow weary of tormenting him and be merciful for once. 

Every morning that the sheets were not damp with blood, and every night she wasn't doubled over in pain felt like it was setting him up for some great fall that would utterly destroy him if he allowed himself even a moment of weakness, of joy. He would not. He  _ could _ not. He didn't even want to imagine the turmoil going on behind Nerr's eyes. She seemed to be doing everything in her power to ignore her condition, even while her own body was making that impossible. As the final remnant of snow melted and tender shoots began pushing through the April mud, it had gotten to the point that she couldn't even sit up in bed without his aid. Once, stricken by some temporary mania, he'd found himself teasing her as he used to do so often. 

“You're as big as a house. Another month, and we'll need a new bed. ” In the past, she would have pouted and whined that she wasn't, or joked that he'd eat those words when she sat on him, but now she only met his eyes with a strange distant look in hers. “N-Nerr?” 

“If I cared for your opinion on my appearance, I'd have asked for it, old man. Make yourself useful and help me up.” Maybe that was her attempt at a joke? He'd laughed weakly, pulling her to her feet, but spent the rest of that day thoroughly unnerved. She had grown antsy, snapping at anyone for the slightest of infarctions, even while a strange melancholy settled over her. Those horrid days of catching her staring down into the crater their castle was built in came back with a vengeance. It was among the most distressing, confusing experiences Gunther had ever lived through. Thus it came as little surprise that when he awoke in the ungodly hours of the morning one day to find an empty space beside him, the sheets slick and, when he pulled his hand away, tinged with a spot of red, he very nearly felt his heart give out then and there. 

It was too much for a tired old man to bear, but he'd somehow forced himself to his feet, dressing only so far as pulling on shoes and a dressing robe. She wasn't in the bath room adjacent to their quarters like he had found her once, curled up and whimpering in the empty tub. That was a small relief, but it only made him worry more. At this hour, the only people in the halls were servants, already preparing for the long day ahead of them, but no one he stopped had seen the second princess. He checked every empty room, calling out for her and undoubtedly waking the nobles of their precious beauty sleep, but he didn't care one whit. It was only when he realized he was heading down towards her siblings' apartments that it struck him where she might have gone, and in his haste to head in the opposite direction, he very nearly bowled the king himself over. 

“Calm yourself, sir. Why are you running about at this hour?” He could have easily asked the younger man why he was not only roaming the halls, but fully dressed as well, but Gunther would've been lying to say he cared. 

“Nerr is missing.” Xander's face paled at once. 

“What?” 

“I woke up, and she wasn't there. She--” 

“I'll have the guards scouring every inch of the castle. You don't think this is an abduction, do you?” Honestly, the thought hadn't even crossed his mind. It was distressing, that the king's mind so quickly turned to such a dark place, but given the history of both this castle and his sister, it was understandable. However, sending the kingdom in a panic this early in the morning would do them no favors. 

“No. In fact, I think I know exactly where she is.” He did not have time to explain himself to his king, paying the boy's demand that he wait no mind as he all but flew down the stairs and out to the stables. Gunther cursed his shaking hands as he attempted to slip the bridle over Caractacus' head; he couldn't even be bothered to saddle him. He may have only just noticed her absence, but who knew how long Nerr had been gone? The thought of her dragging herself through the dark, winding halls gripped his heart with terror and guilt in equal measures. Not for the first time, he cursed his age and failing strength as he pulled himself onto his steed, his right arm screaming in agony, but he pushed away all unnecessary emotions as he steered the courser outside. The sky was black, not even the barest wisp of blue from the east to give some indication of the hour. As he rode, he could almost hear Nerr's voice whining in his mind, _It's still dark out..._ _'It is morning in Nohr, princess. Why didn't you wake me...?'_ Caractacus must have been as exhausted as he was by the time they reached the glen, snapping at him viciously as he dismounted, but he didn't have the patience to try and placate the foolish beast. 

“Nerr?” He called out into the dark wood, the chill running down his spine having nothing to do with the bite in the air. “Nerr! Are you here?” She  _ was _ , his gut told him, but the fact that he heard no answer made him ill. Despite the size of it, there was hardly an echo in the glen, the thick moss and leaves absorbing all the sound from his footsteps and voice. Gunther sagged in relief when he finally reached the clearing and saw the long-limbed silhouette standing out in the lake once again. “Nerr... Gods above, woman, you'll put me in the grave one of these days. I was terrified when I saw you'd gone.” The voice he had expected to hear in his mind was absent, the glen completely silent.

“Dearest? Are you alright?” The closest thing to a response, if it could be called that, was the ever more agitated flicking of her tail. His stomach fell down somewhere towards his feet as he marched into the water, not even bothering to remove his shoes and cursing this strange loop life had thrown him for.  _ 'Why? Why must everything be so strange and confusing? Why can't you just go into labor like a normal woman...?!' _ For nearly two years, he had assured Nerr time and again that she had nothing to fear, that anything she didn't know he knew for the both of them. He'd helped deliver his son, and several nieces and nephews.  _ This _ put him more in mind of a brood mare birthing a foal, and while he'd borne witness to that as well, panic consumed him. This was the first time in well over forty years that he'd found himself completely and utterly clueless. What did he know of manaketes, other than the fact that the back end was just as terrifying and unpleasant as the front? Fortunately for him, the ancient ones never had to rely on humans. The primitive part of his mind told him to flee when the beast before him let out a keen roar, but the glint of something gold against her otherwise dark skin gave him pause. 

He wasn't sure what he had been expecting, probably something far more monstrous, but the sight of a distinctly human head put him more at ease. He had expected hours of screaming and pain and blood, but that was when he envisioned holding his human wife's hand as she bore a human child. A human-sized child slipping from a beast the size of a wheelhouse was quicker than he had ever expected, but the whole experience was no less horrifying. In the back of his mind, he wondered with a sense of dread if she would have simply let her newborn babe fall a good four feet into the still icy water. Thank the gods he wouldn't let that happen. 

“Nerr? Can-- can you hear me, dearest?” He placed his hand on her haunch, feeling less awkward about speaking into his wife's nethers than the fact that he wasn't getting a response. “I'm going to help you, alright? Do  _ not _ kick me.” Honestly, he was more worried about that tail coming down on his neck, but he forced back all the ways this could end with him maimed, focusing instead on bringing his child into the world. As soon as the babe's shoulders were free, he reached up, taking hold of them and waiting for Nerr to push again. “Nerr? You have to push darling. It'll be over soon, I promise you.” He could practically feel the irritation radiating from her, but she remained silent, save for the heavy puffs of breath as her muscles tensed. He pulled, his hand slick with blood and mucous and gods knew what else. He'd known too many men that would gladly stick their hands in another man's guts, but would balk at the thought of receiving their own child in such a manner, a slippery tangle of limbs. Far,  _ far _ too many limbs. Gunther could barely make sense of the writhing mass in his hands, trying to hold it still and wipe clean its face. It had a face. His child had a face, small and red and screwed up as it screamed at the top of its little lungs, and absolutely perfect. 

”Nerr! Nerr, do you hear that? You're a mother!” He could barely speak, his voice choked with joyful tears, but even that happiness was overcast as she stepped away from him, walking further into the water and throwing herself down in it. The resulting waves nearly knocked him off his feet, and he held his squalling baby tighter to his chest.  _ 'She's tired, _ ' he reminded himself.  _ 'She's just spent gods know how long bringing your child into the world. Let her rest...' _ She  _ seemed _ well, at least. She hadn't been moaning in pain (or making any noise whatsoever), her steps had not been unsteady... She just needed a moment to collect herself, that was all. Sighing, Gunther headed back to the shore, hardly willing to tear his eyes away from the strange, beautiful creature in his arms even long enough to acknowledge the thundering hooves tearing up the pristine earth. King Xander hopped down from his saddle before his destrier had even made a complete stop, dashing out to the shallows. 

“Sister!?” 

“She's fine. Tired, but fine.” The younger man didn't seem appeased. 

“Did she-- Was it--?” He could barely string two words together, completely beside himself. Gunther smiled at the king. 

“Calm yourself, my lord, and greet your nephew.” 

“My wha?” For the first time since he had arrived, Xander looked away from the beastly form of his sister, still curled up in the lake, and down to the whining babe tucked against the other man's chest. He stared in silence for a long moment, the expression on his face unbefitting the king of Nohr, but perfectly acceptable for a new uncle. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he came back to his senses, unhooking his short cloak. “Wrap him in this. I'll not have my nephew catching a chill.” 

That was easier said than done, Gunther quickly realized. He'd swaddled many children in his time, but they were usually... shaped the same. Tiny wings jutted from his sons' back, looking more like crumpled parasols than the majestic appendages his mother sported, providing two more limbs that he had to be careful of. The easiest way to hold him seemed to be with a hand under his belly, the way one would carry a cat. Xander, realizing he could spare no hands, approached and laid his cloak over the babe's back, pausing for a moment and lifting it, his brows furrowed in confusion. 

“That's a tail, yes? Or am I  _ very _ confused about which anatomy goes on what side?” 

“That  _ is _ a tail.” The daughter they'd lost in Kouga had been born looking much the same, a chimeric blend of human and draconic features. Once again, Gunthers' gaze drifted over the golden horns that sprouted from his son's head. They were small, lacking the prongs they would undoubtedly grow, but they were plenty sharp. If  _ this _ was what had grown inside her all these times before, it was a miracle Nerr hadn't been torn apart. The realization of how quickly and easily he could have lost his beloved drained the strength from his legs and he sat hard on the cold, damp ground. 

“Are you alright, sir?” 

“I'm fine...” He answered, the shock still settling over him. Was that why she bled so much every time? “If it wouldn't trouble you, sire, perhaps you could return to the castle and send for a midwife? I would go myself, but I'd rather stay with Nerr.” Not that long ago, he would have expected the boy to insist that  _ he _ would stay with his sister and send Gunther off, but that old bitterness seemed to have waned. The weight of the crown on his brow left him little energy for such petty things as jealousy. 

“Of course,” Xander nodded and walked over to his horse, pausing. “Should I go ahead and make the announcement, or would you and Nerr prefer to wait until you return home to do so?” 

“It may be best to wait, if for no reason other than Ladies Camilla and Elise stampeding out here would cause everyone more stress than it's worth.” 

His half jest earned a weary chuckle as the young king alighted his steed and rode off, leaving Gunther alone with his family. His family... How long had it been since he'd last been able to think that? It hardly felt real, holding a son in his arms, a son  _ he'd _ sired, that the woman he loved had birthed. He had long since made his peace with the idea that he may well die before this dream ever became a reality, but here it was, laid out in front of him. Hot tears blinded him, dripping onto his son's fine hair every time he blinked. Raising his head, he called out to be beloved as loudly as he could without startling their child. Their child... he would never get tired of that phrase.

“Nerr! Darling, come out from there! Your son is perfect; don't you want to hold him?” Slowly, she lifted her head from the water, turning her long, serpentine neck to face him. The chill in the air grew stronger.

“ _ No.” _ And with that, she lay prone once more, leaving him trying to quell the growing disquiet in his gut. She was tired. That was all. Once she rested and was cleaned up and back in bed, she would be beside herself with joy, the way she always said she would be. That's exactly what would happen. Everything would be fine.

Contenting himself with that thought, he turned his attention back to his son. Soon, what few scraps of sun Hoshido deigned to spare would begin reaching over the sky, bringing precious warmth and light with it, coaxing as much to life as possible. It was impossible to stay upset as he leaned down, whispering into a tiny, pointed ear.

“You chose a wonderful time to be born...”

000

By the time the midwife arrived, a young woman (though only truly young when compared to him), it was well and truly morning and the tiny child cradled against Gunther's chest had decided he'd rested long enough. Fussing and squirming, it was hard not to think of a tiny kitten, especially given the way his tail stuck straight up as he squalled his displeasure at being examined. The woman was a professional, he'd give her that. Despite her obvious shock upon seeing the strange creature, she immediately assumed a serene expression, cooing at the babe as she tested his arms and legs and listened to his heart.

“There there, my little lord, you must be hungry. We'll get you to a wet nurse soon enough,” She looked up at Gunther, worry creasing her brow. “Forgive my ignorance, milord, but I've never seen a child so... malformed. At least, not one that's lived more than a few hours.” The old knight had to force his anger from bleeding into his voice.

“He's not 'malformed'; that's a god of old you hold in your arms, sister.”

“His hands and feet are black with rot!” She whispered fearfully. He looked down at his son, brushing a finger against one of his little fists. They were blue, not black, the same color as the thick little claws sprouting from his fingers, horribly sharp things that must have been responsible for all the scratches on his face. Gunther smiled widely as that tiny hand instinctively closed around his finger. Such a strong grip...

“That's nothing to worry about...” 

“You're certain?” He waved his free hand to the dragon still lying in the lake. 

“Behold his mother.” The midwife gaped at the creature, her lips forming a single, silent word-  _ How...? _ Deftly, she shook away her disbelief, returning the child to his father. 

“If you are certain that...  _ this _ is normal, then the child seems to be in fine health. He's a bit smaller than most babes born late enough, but his lungs are fine--” As if to validate her claim, the boy let loose a piercing wail, writhing in frustration. “--and he needs to nurse.” Xander, who had been standing on the rocky shore, staring out into the lake, started at the sudden cry.

“Camilla's already seen to calling for a wet nurse.” Gunther's eyes drifted to the form of his wife. Even though he told himself she would make it known if she was unwell, her stillness and silence left him fearful. He could not bear to leave her alone any more than he could bear to release the now bawling child he held. Seeing his advisor's dilemma, Xander spoke up. “I'll stay here with Nerr and escort her back to the castle when she's rested.” The king's naiveté was almost charming.

“She may still need to deliver the afterbirth.” His face turned an off shade of green that clashed hideously with his yellow hair, but to his credit, his expression remained neutral. 

“I have endured my sister vomiting, bleeding, and possibly urinating on me; I think I can deal with this.” Regardless of whatever bad blood may have festered between  _ them _ , Gunther was confident that the younger man would not balk at any task concerning his little princess. 

Knowing he was leaving her in good hands but feeling incredibly guilty nonetheless, he nodded and followed the midwife from the glen, where a carriage was waiting beside Caractacus, who had taken the opportunity to feast on the verdant bounty at his feet. A young guard hopped down from the back of the carriage, taking the reins from him and informing Gunther he'd walk the old charger back, so he was free to ride in back inside. He would have preferred the even pace of a horse's canter to the horrid jolting of those wretched wheelhouses, but even with the sky growing lighter, it was still far too cold for a thin-skinned newborn to stay in this weather longer than was absolutely necessary. 

He acquiesced, not realizing just how worn down he was until he leaned back against the thickly cushioned seat. He was exhausted, cold, wet and hungry, and his poor son was undoubtedly worse off than him. Being born must have been a tiring, wholly unpleasant business, and he spent the ride back stroking the boy's downy hair and the chamois soft membrane stretched between his wings, wondering if Nerr had looked the same when she was born. Upon arriving back at Krakenburg's courtyard, he reluctantly handed his son to the midwife at her insistence, and upon stepping into the castle's halls and nearly being knocked off his feet by Elise, he assumed she'd known what was awaiting him. 

“Where's the baby? I wanna see the baby!!” As tired as he was, it was difficult to not be infected with the youngest princess' enthusiasm and joy. He unwrapped her arms from around his waist and began the arduous journey back to his quarters. 

“Patience, milady. He's being bathed and fed so he can meet you looking his best.” 

“ 'He'? I have a nephew!?” She gasped happily, her eyes shining. “I'm an aunt! Hey, where's Nerr?” She looked around, expecting to see her sister somewhere behind him. 

“She's still resting, princess.” At once, the young girl's happiness fell away, replaced with the same fear and dread that had been stewing inside him. 

“What's wrong? Is she alright?!” 

“Of course she is,” He prayed to whatever powers on high that may have been listening that it wasn't a lie. “She's just very tired. Childbirth is a womans' war, as they say, and you know how exhausting war is.” That seemed to placate her, and while Gunther was glad at least  _ one _ of them no longer worried, he was grateful to be rid of her by the time he returned to his room. Of all his lawful family, Elise was the only one who treated him as a true sibling; a double-edged sword as he was sure she would follow him into the baths if given half a chance. It reminded him almost painfully of his own sister. Gisele would have done the same thing, if only to torment him. It was a thought more bitter than sweet at this point, and he pushed it from his mind. 

The bedding had been changed in their absence, and a pomander had been hung (undoubtedly by Jakob), filling the room with a cloying, spiced scent. It only made him more aware of how filthy he was standing there. By the time he'd finally deemed himself clean (though his robe would probably need to be burned), Xander had returned to the castle, carrying a sight for sore eyes in his arms. Gunther sighed deeply as he approached the king and fell in step beside him, his attention focused solely on Nerr. Her shift was muddy and tangled around her legs, but there were no conspicuous red stains on it. 

“How do you feel, my love?” 

“Tired.” Well, of course. Ask a stupid question... Carrying her back into their shared quarters, the king gently deposited her on her feet. 

“I'll leave her in your hands,” He told the older man in a low voice before turning back to his sister. “If you have need of me for anything, say the word and I'll be here at once, little princess.” He brought her fingers to his lips, pressing a chaste kiss to them as he bowed out of the room. Once the door clicked shut, Nerr pulled the sodden muslin over her head, tossing it in a corner. Completely nude, she pulled back the covers and slipped into bed, paying no mind to the dried blood and other fluids still staining her thighs. Gunther winced at the sight of it, walking around the four poster to face her. 

“Do you want me to run you a bath, my ladyship?” 

“I'm going to sleep.” ...yes, that was fine too. A bath and meal could wait. Of course, there was a matter far more pressing than those. He knelt beside her, his knees protesting the hard floor angrily, but he ignored the pain as he took his beloveds' hand in his. Her fingers felt like ice. He remembered how cold she always felt when she lay abed after the bloody sheets were taken away. But this time was different. She was cold because she had spent gods only knew how many hours in that freezing lake. He'd have to bring in more blankets. 

“Your son would like very much to meet you, Nerr. He's wonderful. You've never seen such a perfect child...” The Hoshidan princess had been staring past him, his words clearly going in one ear and out the other until just then. He saw her eyes widen, and for one horrible moment, it looked as though she would burst into tears, but before he could make sense of her strange mood, Nerr snatched her hand away and pulled the covers over her head. 

It was nothing he needed to be concerned with, he told himself. It was normal. Michaela's moods had become even more volatile (if such a thing was even possible) in the week following Christophs' birth, and he was certain his sisters had both experienced bouts of crying without reason more than once. Gunther continued telling himself that as the days passed. He had precious little time to worry otherwise. There was hardly an hour when his son was not being swarmed with visitors, his immediate family almost always waiting on the other side of the door to see their first nephew. Bathed and dried, his ruddy skin had become a soft cream. The fine lavender fuzz on his head was almost invisible, save for a spot here or there that was darker than the rest. 

“He looks just like his aunt Camilla!” The eldest princess cooed as she looked into the bassinet, stroking a soft, pudgy cheek with the back of her finger. “He's going to grow up beautiful and strong, just like his mother.” 

“I hope he at least has his fathers' wits. The last thing we need is another Nerr running about.” Despite his haughty tone, Leo's expression was soft, that hint of a smile never leaving his face. Surprisingly, it was Elise of all people who seemed pensive, looking up at her good brother with a melancholic hopefulness. 

“Is Nerr going to come to his naming ceremony?” 

“I should hope so, princess.” Gunther tried to keep his tone light. He didn't want them pestering Nerr, considering how... delicate her constitution had become as of late. 

Even though the physicians all declared she was in fine health, she spent almost all her time lying in bed, refusing to leave their room to eat or even bathe. The first time he came in carrying their son was one of the rare instances he'd seen her sitting up, even though she was just staring blankly at the wall. No official name had been documented for the new prince yet, but Gunther had dubbed him “Kanna” in the interim. For those first weeks of wedded bliss, they spent their nights discussing potential names. Gunther wanted something grand, so their child would never forget how important they were. Nerr had given him the same look Michaela had when he suggested Aurelian, declaring “ _ That's a fine name for a horse, but I'll cut your tongue out if you ever call my child that...” _ She told him plain- whatever child they bore would be of royal blood and sired by the greatest knight Nohr had ever known; they would  _ know _ they were important. 

She favored simpler names, mentioning the golden lilies that grew in Anomovic. She'd been enchanted by them since Camilla first mentioned them, and upon finally seeing them, was even more taken. It may have seemed odd to an outsider, calling his son after a flower, but Gunther reasoned he was naming him for something that brought his wife happiness, something that seemed painfully lacking in her these days. 

She'd actually reached out for the boy, taking him gladly into her arms and looking him over, even smiling a little as she ran her fingers through his thin curls. With every day that passed, Kanna had begun losing more of his draconic features, his extremities becoming lighter as the claws shrank back into nails. And while oddly shaped bumps remained, his wings had receded to the point that he could be laid on his back. He'd look no different from any other babe before the month was out, save for his pointed ears and unusually small navel. Everything had been going so wonderfully until the boy began fussing. 

“He must be hungry.” Gunther moved to take Kanna back to the wet nurse, but Nerr had shifted to keep his hands at bay. 

“I'll feed him. I'm his mother; I'm supposed to feed him.” While he kept his expression neutral, inside, the older man felt like a weight had been lifted from his soul. Most nobility preferred to foist their children onto nannies and wet nurses and tutors, keeping as much distance from them as possible. Even if he hadn't seen first hand through Jakob how miserable that could leave a child, he still wouldn't have allowed anyone else to raise his son. He and Michaela had cared for their son without needing some outsider to come in and take over; there was no reason he and Nerr couldn't do the same. He felt his heart swell with pride and affection as the princess pulled down her dress, offering their son her breast. Whining, the boy turned away, still struggling to escape her hold on him. 

“Why isn't he doing anything?” He should have noticed the strain in her voice, but his mind was elsewhere as he sat beside her. 

“He isn't used to your scent, dearest.” Crimson eyes snapped up at him. 

“So it's  _ my _ fault?” 

“What? No! Of course not. Here, you need to let him know there's food.” He squeezed a bit of her milk onto his finger and smeared it onto the babe's gums, the way he remembered seeing his mother do when his youngest sister refused to nurse. That was normally all it had taken for Hilde to latch on hungrily, but Kanna had chosen this of all days to be particularly stubborn. To look at Nerr's face, one would think she'd been slapped. 

“Why won't he do it!? What am I doing wrong!?” 

“You aren't doing anything wrong, my love. You just have to be patient,” He tried desperately to calm that manic look in her eyes. “Come now, little one. You're upsetting your mother...” However, no amount of coaxing would sway the child who, perhaps sensing the frustration radiating from his mother, had begun wailing in earnest. That was all Nerr could take as she screamed. Gunther quickly pulled Kanna away from her. 

“Shut up! Shut up, shut up,  _ shut up _ , get it away from me!!” She buried her face in her hands, sobbing more hysterically than her son. He could do nothing but leave, trying to calm his racing heart as desperately as the howling child in his arms. 

Even now, that pervading sense of dread refused to release its grip on his heart. He had not been deaf when his mother spoke to the other women in the village, whispering about new mothers who carried their babes to the well outside the gates and dropped them into the icy water. Once, he had tried to look down into it's pitch-black depths, but the prickling feeling he'd gotten on the back of his neck sent him running back home in tears. 

As much as Gunther wanted to believe such a thing was simple superstition, he had seen with his own eyes women smother their children lest they suffer at the hands of the Nohrian army. And as much as he tried to convince himself that the desperation of war could not bleed into peaceful life, so too did he remember Nerr trying to climb out the edgeless windows of Krakenburg on more than one occasion. She had stopped. Eventually. Just as that madness passed, so would this. He just had to keep an eye on her, and never,  _ never _ leave Kanna alone with her. As soon as she felt better, everything would be as perfect as they had dreamed.

000

Gunther had decided that it would be best for them all to escape the chaos of Krakenburg, at least for a little while. To his immense relief, Nerr had indeed attended their son's naming ceremony, agreeing that Kanna would be a fine name. She looked every bit the perfect Nohrian princess, nobility and grace as she held the fussing babe while a curate anointed his head with oils. For the entire ceremony and carriage ride back, she had been composed, and had spent the next two days sobbing so loudly he couldn't sleep. It had to be Krakenburg; why else would she have seemed better in the short time she left? Those dark, dreary halls and barren courtyards would make anyone unhappy. She needed warmth and light, so he packed a trunk of their belongings (mostly Kanna's), and piled his wife and son into the most nondescript wheelhouse available to crown, taking them down to Nestra. 

Every other time they'd made this trip, Nerr had stared out the window, never growing tired of the scenery that passed before them. This time, she stayed curled up in the darkest corner with her eyes closed and her hands over her ears. He'd tried to break the tense silence, reminding her that her garden would be in bloom, and soon it would be warm enough to go to the sea, but his efforts were always met either with silence, or her snapping at him to leave her alone. She would feel better as soon as they got home. It was easier to think of the tiny cottage outside Glasse as their home than Krakenburg. It had been run down and nearly squalid, but they'd put their blood, sweat and tears into patching every hole, replacing every brick, pulling up every weed and ensuring it was warmer and cozier than the Northern Citadel could ever be. It was the home they'd dreamed of when they lay together in their tent during the war, the one happy dream they both shared when trying to fend off the prowling nightmares.

When the carriage had begun it's return to the North and he put Kanna in his basket to sleep, Gunther went about opening the window to let the warm, southern winds air out the musty winter smell, asking Nerr if she would begin unpacking their trunks. The younger woman had dragged herself to their room and shut the door behind her. She would feel better as soon as they were settled in. It felt almost like he was twenty again, bustling about the house with his son on his hip, only he wasn't twenty. Even the warmer air did little to alleviate the aches in his joints, and the wellspring of energy he'd once had was running dry. When he was young, he'd had a wife and mother and sisters and good brothers to help deal with things when he was tired or ill. Now, they were all dead and it was just him. 

He could not fault Nerr for her near constant weeping, or the way she pushed him away when he went to embrace her. Her misery was no more her fault than her fits, which he told himself again and again when he wanted to wrap his hands around her throat to shut her up. She would feel better soon. She would feel better and smile and actually look at their son when she fed him, and everything would be fine. He repeated that mantra like a prayer as the weeks passed, mouthing the words silently while he dragged himself to the door. He had barely heard the knocking, it had been so faint, but persistent. He reached for his lance, torn between running whoever the hell dared disturb him through, and shoving them inside to deal with his problems while he fled. Brigand, beggar, or even some penitent zealot, any option would have been preferable to the king of Nohr standing on his doorstep. 

“Sire? What are you--” Gunther straightened, acutely aware of the spit up on his shirt and the three day old beard darkening his jaw. In the second room, which they had begun converting to an indoor bath, he could hear Kanna start whining as he woke from his nap. “Has something happened? Are we needed in the capital?” Xander smiled in a way that didn't quite reach his eyes. 

“No, nothing so grave. I've decided to visit Cyrkensia and thought I'd pay a visit to my favorite nephew since it was on the way.” The older man narrowed his eyes suspiciously. As similar as they could be at times, Xander was not his father. He did not simply drop his duties and travel across the kingdom to take in a show. Regardless, he stepped aside, bowing slightly. 

“Of course, sire. Come in.” As he stepped inside, the younger man met his gaze, a strange look in his eyes. 

“There's no need for formalities, Gunther. We're not at court.” 

“Of course, sire. Please, sit.” Closing the door, he gestured to the chair closest to the fire. He had been trying to figure out  _ something _ Nerr might be willing to eat when he'd gotten distracted feeding Kanna, who had fully woken and was loudly announcing his need to be changed. “Excuse me for a moment, Your Majesty.” He didn't wait to be excused, feeling a headache coming on as he bathed the squalling boy. More than once, he'd found himself seriously considering taking his son out to the woods behind their home and just leaving him there. He'd been horrified and disgusted with himself for even considering such a thing, vowing he would never again let such thoughts cross his mind, but even now as he tied a clean diaper in place, he caught himself glaring at the child. It was only the king's voice that distracted him long enough to stop his hands from shaking. 

“Gunther? Is there something in that kettle on the fire?” 

“Fuck!” He gathered Kanna and quickly ran from the room, just in time to see Xander removing the steaming kettle. “Oh... I was going to make tea.” The younger man smiled once again. 

“Perhaps I can do that. Or, if you would prefer, I could take Kanna off your hands for a while?” It was all he could do to not throw the baby at the other man, who took him gladly, beaming at the child. The sight of his son smiling at another man after months of screaming and crying at him was nearly enough to make him tear his hair out. Gunther tasked himself with making tea. 

“Would you like milk and sugar--” 

“Please.” 

“--because I don't have those...” How long had it been since he'd managed to go to the market? Their garden was small, but considering he was mostly making meals for one, it had been enough these past few months. 

“Plain is fine.” Xander probably fancied himself being gracious, but Gunther was no fool. He  _ knew _ the princeling had come to look down his nose at him, to be able to whisper in Nerr's ear that a broken down old peasant could never take care of her. And he would be right. 

The only way to keep his hands from trembling as he handed the younger man his cup was to grip the delicate handle so tightly he feared it might break. These were Nerr's favorite cups, that she'd gone back to the Citadel to fetch. Xander thanked him, to which he didn't respond as he sat with his own cup. 

“Are you not drinking, sir?” His cup was empty. He couldn't have forced a single drop down his throat, tight as it was, and there was no reason to waste tea. He simply stared at the fine porcelain. For a while, the two men sat in silence, the only sounds the crackling of the logs as the burned and Kannas' occasional coos. Xander spoke first, undoubtedly growing tired of his poor company. 

“How have you been, Gunther?” 

“Fine.” 

“That's good. And how is my sister?” 

“Tired.” 

“Still?” The furrow between his brows grew more pronounced. “Perhaps she should visit an alchemist--” 

“She's  _ fine _ . She's just tired, that's all.” They were all tired. When Kanna was a little older and could sleep through the night, they'd finally get some rest and everything would be better. The door to their room opened slowly, creaking far too loudly. He'd meant to grease the hinges, but so many things had piled up that he'd forgotten. Nerr slipped out of the room, shrouded in the quilt she had spent so long sewing for their children. Gunther sighed in relief at the sight of her. “Nerr. Dearest, your brother came... to... visit...” 

She didn't so much as glance in their direction, shuffling towards the back door, where she slipped outside and vanished as quickly as she appeared. She often sat by the well, staring out into the woods. 

Never saying a word to him. 

Drifting about like a ghost that haunted him, a constant reminder of his failure as a husband. 

It was too much. He felt the cup slipping from his hand, but couldn't stop it from happening. And yet, it didn't fall and shatter. He blinked, trying to ignore the tears dripping onto his hands as he realized that Xander had stood and grabbed the cup before he could drop it. Gently, he pulled it away, setting it on the small table near the hearth.

"Gunther… what is wrong?" Only a blind man couldn't see the pity in his eyes for what it really was; condescension. 

"Nothing. Nothing is wrong." He managed to choke out, refusing to show any more weakness. The air of concern around the king dropped as his frown deepened.

"How great of a fool do you take me for to think I would believe that? Look at the state of you, man! I've seen corpses hanging from gibbets that have more life in them than you." He sighed, shifting Kanna's weight to his other arm. "I do not know what madness overcame you to leave the castle and come out here all alone--" 

"Because I don't need it!  _ We _ don't need it!" He should have stopped the moment he realized he had snapped at the king, the man who could take his whole life away with a word, but it was as though another person had taken control of him. "How do you think the rest of the world who don't have servants and cooks and nursemaids live their lives? They do it on their own. I have lived forty years 'all alone'. I have spent twenty of those years taking care of your sister 'all alone'. I don't need anyones' help; I can care for my family on my own!" 

His heart thundered in his chest, his throat burning as fiercely as his eyes. Oh, he'd done it now… Xander would take his son, his wife, back to Windmire, claiming he was deranged, dangerous. He would be executed for his outburst, Nerr would forget about him, Kanna would grow up never having known he existed… He hated himself for flinching at Xander's touch, but couldn't stop it. 

"You are a strong man, Sir Gunther. Nerr told me, in great depth, how my father wronged you. What he took from you. I can say with absolute certainty that, if I had lost as much as you, I would not be able to continue moving forward. I know that you can deal with things on your own…" The king shocked him then by kneeling. It was unheard of, royalty  _ kneeling _ before their subjects?! The confusion, the concern in the young man's face was sincere, something that did not seem possible from one who looked so much like Garon. "But why would you want to?" Gunther was thrown for a loop. This was wrong, everything was wrong. Was he even awake? Had he pushed himself too hard and now experienced a hallucination as he lay dying in the garden? 

"I-- I--" 

"I know that my father killed your family. I know no one can ever replace them. But do you  _ truly _ believe that you are still alone in the world? Did you think that marrying my sister meant you brought her into your bubble of isolation? Because I assure you, it didn't. You  _ have _ a family," Xander reached out, laying his hand on the older man's shoulder, just as he always did with Nerr. "Talk to me, brother. Tell me what's wrong." 

Decades. It had been decades since anyone had called him that. He couldn't even remember when, only that  _ maybe _ it had been Hilde chiding him for something or other he'd spent too much money on. "My stupid brother," or something like that. Decades since anyone but Nerr or Jakob cared enough to ask after him.  _ He _ was the one that did the asking, the one that checked up on everyone else. Decades of loneliness and loss and fear that had hardened his heart. 

The tears he had fought back as best he could flowed thickly down his cheeks. He was distantly aware of how pitiful a sight he must have been, a man of his age weeping like a child. 

"I don't know what to do," He whispered, his throat too tight to speak any louder. "I thought it would get easier; it's supposed to get easier… but it hasn't. Nerr is… All she does is cry and sleep; it's like I have two children to take care of. I know it's not her fault, but... I can't deal with her like this." He leaned forward, lowering his voice further. Who knew where Nerr was? She could hear a mouse walking on velvet. "I'm afraid to leave her alone with Kanna. I'm afraid she'll hurt him. She's his mother; she's supposed to love him, but she doesn't even want to hold him! I have to  _ make _ her nurse him!" Gunther pushed his hair back from his face. The more he spoke those concerns aloud, the worse he felt. 

"Is it my fault? Did  _ I _ do something wrong, did I make her like this? I know women can get irritable after they give birth- my first wife cried for weeks over nothing- but it's been  _ months! _ Why hasn't she gotten better yet? Why must everything go so wrong?!" What little control he had left crumbled away, giving over to sobs that wracked his entire body. 

The last time he'd wailed in such a way had been when the Nohrian knights dragged him from his wife and son's bodies, and he felt just as weak and helpless as he had then. His pitiful, ugly cries upset Kanna, and the boy began wailing in turn, his high whine a dagger that tore through Gunther's heart. He should have been consoling his son, but he couldn't even bring himself to look at him. An arm wrapped around his shoulders, and he instinctively pulled away, but it tightened its hold on him. 

"Weep, brother. There is no one here but us." He would not, he wanted to argue, he could not be weak in front of  _ anyone _ , but his protests were swallowed by tears. It felt as though he were purging himself of years of misery and anger that had been left to fester, feelings he thought he'd let go of the first time he took Nerr into his arms. 

It only took a few minutes before his tears dried, leaving him feeling sick and weak, but it felt like an eternity had passed. Xander no longer knelt, but stooped in an uncomfortable position, the arm not holding him carefully bouncing Kanna, whose cries had since regressed to unhappy whimpering. Gunther wanted to vomit. He squirmed free of the king's arm, breathing hard.

"What are you playing at?" Xander's lips turned down as he straightened, cradling the fussing babe with both arms. 

"Is this how my sisters' attempts at compassion are met, sir?" 

"You despise me." The king remained silent for a long time, finally sighing and walking back to his seat. He gently combed his fingers through his nephew's hair, but his gaze remained focused on the other man. 

"I did. Once. I was a child, with a child's fear and insecurity and pettiness. But I realized, far too late, that I was a child no longer. I am a man grown, a king… too old by half to continue holding onto hopes for what can never be..." A pained look clouded his face, making the king look far younger than he was. 

"I assure you, sir, that my 'hatred' was jealousy, nothing more. You had the one thing I wanted above all else, and I let my envy control me. I made myself miserable, but far worse, I let my pettiness hurt my dear little princess. I vowed to make up for the pain and unhappiness I caused her… and so, for the love I bear for my sister, I must love you as well."

Gunther wanted to scoff, to laugh, to sneer… but he could do none of those things. All he could do was lean back in his chair, still breathing hard but somehow easier than he had in years. His head pounded and he felt sick to his stomach, but it also felt as though a yoke had been taken off his neck, its weight no longer bearing down on him. He opened his mouth to speak, but the words stuck in his throat, burning and choking, making his eyes sting anew. Decades of willing himself to be as hard as iron left him now brittle with rust. But the age of war, of the death and fear that came with it were over. Iron waa no longer needed, and just as he'd cast off his suit of plate, so too did the armor beneath his skin need to be shed. 

"...help me..." The words were a whisper, one that hurt him to his core. The slight smile that curled Xander's lips would have driven him into a rage had he not also noticed the understanding in the younger man's eyes. 

"I will," the king whispered back. "We all will."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sadly, this is going to be the last chapter for the forseeable future, on account of writer's block hitting me something fierce while I was working on the next chapter. It's about 30% complete, and it'll probably be done one day, but who knows when that day will come?

**Author's Note:**

> I started this fic years ago, back when I was first writing TRD. Health issues (both physical and mental) got in the way of finishing it, but hopefully posting it can light a fire under my butt and help me get back to the final chapter.


End file.
